With The First Ray Of Light
by lilmisblack
Summary: The Death Eaters I killed were trying to kill us. I will not feel sorry for what I did, for saving my friends. The only difference between you and me is that I can do what it takes, and I can deal with the aftermath. Don't you dare judge me for that."
1. Chapter 1

"Miss Granger?" someone called, again and again, but it was the soft tapping on her shoulder that finally caught her attention. She blinked a few times, trying to push those painful memories from her past that kept coming back out of her mind so that she could focus on the young witch that was calling her. "Miss Granger, are you all right? You look a little pale," the witch said as Hermione turned away from charmed window displaying a stationary sunrise. There had been a time, years ago, when she would have found the image beautiful; now it just broke her heart to watch it.

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione replied, forcing a small smile to her lips. She saw the witch hesitate for a moment, as if not sure whether she believed it, but then went back to the charming smile.

"Healer Thompson will see you now. This way, please."

She let the witch guide her through a few busy waiting rooms and down a hallway, stopping when they reached what seemed to be the largest room in the entire hospital. With another broad smile, the witch knocked on the door and opened it for her without waiting for a reply, motioning for her to walk inside.

"Miss Granger," the small, balding wizard inside the room greeted her, quickly walking around his desk and towards her. "It's such an honour to meet you," he said, shaking her hand excitedly. "Thank you so much for coming, especially under these circumstances and on such short notice. Please, take a seat."

"Thank you. Your message said it was urgent."

"Yes. I met with the Minister, and…well, we are aware this is not exactly the manner in which you conduct business, but you see, under these circumstances…" Thompson trailed off, looking unsure of what to say. He made his way back around his desk in silence, and only when he was seated again did he speak. "Would you like a drink, Miss Granger?"

"No, thank you," she said, surprised by the sudden change of subject. "I'm afraid I don't have much time, I have a meeting with the Minister at six."

"Oh, of course. I will try to be brief, then," he said, with a broad smile. "The Minister spoke most highly of you. You see, we contacted the Ministry first, of course, when it became obvious that we were dealing with something…unusual, but after more than a week there have been no results," he explained, in hurried words. "When I spoke to the Minister about this, he assured me they are putting every effort in solving this situation, but it would take time. He told me if there was someone that could help us, that it would be you, Miss Granger. You seem to be the best in your…line of work. And so young, it's most impressive."

"I'm sorry, Mr Thompson," she interrupted as politely as she could, trying her best to keep her impatience in check, "but if the Ministry cannot help you, I don't see how-"

"Oh, such modesty," the wizard said, before she could finish, that broad smile back on his lips.

"What is the reason you contacted me exactly?" she asked, before he got sidetracked with more praising.

"Well, you see, there have been a series of attacks over the last few weeks."

"Attacks? Of what nature?"

"We don't know, exactly. You see, none of the victims remember what happened to them. As far as they know, they suddenly woke up on some deserted alley, with no memory of anything strange happening until then, and barely an hour lost. Nothing seemed to be wrong with them at first, but after approximately a day symptoms began to appear.

"What were these symptoms?"

"At first they matched those of a common cold, with fever, dizziness, the usual," he said, with a small wave of his hand. "After a few more hours their condition worsened. The fever produced hallucinations, you see. Mild ones at first, harmless, but that quickly changed. The victims became violent, started attacking anyone near them until Ministry officers were called, and they had to be disarmed and restrained."

"How many victims are there?"

"The patients were brought here as soon as it became clear they were under the effect of some kind of magic; we have fourteen so far."

"I'm sure you are aware of the fact that I'm not a healer, I still don't see-"

"I have every healer in this hospital at my disposal, Miss Granger," he said, rather briskly. "If this was something a healer could do, the patients would have been healed by now, I assure you." Then he seemed to catch himself, and smiled again. "Shortly after the patients were brought in, their magic became unstable, and we were forced to isolate them in order to keep them and our employees safe. We cannot run any tests on the patients once they reach critical level, and we have not been able to simply bind their magic, either. The Ministry has Aurors tracking down whoever is responsible for these attacks, but they haven't found them yet, and our patients' health keeps deteriorating; they're running out of time. The Minister himself told me to contact you, Miss Granger. I'm sure you understand the gravity of this situation. We do not need more healers, or more Aurors. We need something else."

"What is it that you expect me to do, Mr Thompson?"

"Whatever needs to be done, Miss Granger. You will have a team of our best healers at your disposal, as well as anything else you might need. Anything you need, we will provide. We have to find a way to break the magic affecting them and save our patients soon."

"I don't usually work with others, Mr Thompson."

"I'm aware of that. You can contact the team through someone else, or we can provide you with an alias in order to do this. The Minister made the conditions for hiring your service very clear, and I'm more than willing to oblige. Only the three of us will know about this, Miss Granger. "

"I cannot give you an answer until I have more information about the case."

"I understand. We have all the files ready for you, there is just one detail we have to discuss first."

Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It was five to six; she was going to be late. She hated being late.

The wizard seemed to notice her impatience, and spoke again. "There are certain aspects of this case, as you can imagine, that neither the Ministry nor the hospital would want the public to know. I was assured by the Minister that I could count on your absolute discretion, but you see, the hospital's policy-"

"I assume what you are trying to say is that you want me to agree to a Non-Disclosure Binding Spell?"

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that it is not a matter of trust," he hurried to explain. "It is simply a legal requirement before I can give you access to classified information."

"I understand."

Thompson hesitated for another moment, as if afraid he would offend her by asking her to sign such a contract. She was more than used to it; in fact, almost every one of the jobs she was hired to do required such agreements.

When the wizard opened a drawer and pulled out a roll of parchment, she held her hand out and took it, spreading the contract in front of her and waving her wand over it to check for any hidden clauses before taking a few minutes to read through it.

"The contract does not specify the reason you are given access to the information, of course, or even what files you are given," Thompson said, as she read. "It simply states your name and the terms of the agreement. We can change your name for an alias if you prefer, the Binding Spell would work as well."

"Does your assistant or anyone else know why I'm here?"

"Of course not."

"Then I believe that would be a better option," she said, waving her wand over the contract again to change her name to one of the aliases she used for work before signing it.

"Wonderful, wonderful," the wizard said, all but glowing with glee as he took the contract back, his previous nervousness forgotten as that broad smile returned to his face. "Now, I understand you are in a hurry," he said, then glanced sideways at the clock. "Dear Merlin, I didn't realise this had taken so long, you are late to your meeting," he said, flicking his wand to call for his assistant. "Miss Weaver, please bring the case files for Miss Granger," he said, as soon as the door opened, then hesitated and turned to her. "Unless you would rather we sent them to your office, instead?"

"I will take them with me, thank you," she said with a small smile. She didn't really have an office, she usually worked from home, and the last thing she needed was for someone, anyone, to find out where she lived. She'd had to deal with enough strangers knocking on her door after the war, most of the Order had. After a few attacks from rogue Death Eaters and many fans and stalkers, most of them had decided to move. She had made sure no one other than her parents and a few friends knew where she lived now, and she intended to keep it that way.

"Well, then I won't hold you up any longer. I'm most sorry for the delay," Thompson said, shaking her hand. "It truly has been a pleasure, Miss Granger."

"Thank you," she said, then followed his assistant out of the office.

They walked down another hallway this time, and the witch stopped a few doors down. Hermione waited outside as the woman stepped into a small office, then walked out a second later, a large box floating in front of her.

"All the case files are here," the witch explained, charming the lid off the box and pulling out a sheet of parchment. "All the files are sorted chronologically, but are cross referenced by patient's name, symptoms and treatment. Just tap your wand over the option you need, and they'll re-sort themselves accordingly. If you have any-"

"Patty!"

They both turned to the wizard running to them, and the witch took a step forward. "Brad? What is it?"

"I have a package for Hermione Granger; it was left at reception a few minutes ago. Please tell me she's still here," the wizard said, sounding desperate. When the witch turned to Hermione with a confused frown, he followed her gaze, only then noticing her standing there. "You're Hermione Granger," he said in a flat tone, reaching inside his pocket without waiting for a response. "I have to deliver a package to you."

She saw him pull a small box from his pocket and hold it out to her, but she didn't take it. She had a strange feeling about this. A wave and a flick of her wand moved the box away from his hand, making it slowly float closer to her. The second the box left the wizard's hand she saw his eyes focus as he blinked a few times, then tilted his head to the side as he looked at her.

"Who left it?" the witch asked him.

"Who left what?"

"The box, Brad. Who left that box?"

The wizard turned to her, frowning in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione moved her wand over the box, checking for spells before opening it.

"What's that?" they both asked her, but she was too focused on what she was seeing to answer.

Inside the small box, cushioned in black velvet, lay a small glass phial filled with a silvery substance she knew only too well. Next to it was a note: _'Time is of the essence. We will contact you again soon.'_

"Who gave you this box?" Patty asked.

"I know you, you're Hermione Granger!" the wizard suddenly said, looking incredibly pleased to be standing so close to her.

"Someone put a spell on him," Hermione muttered.

"What?"

Hermione used the few seconds she had to sneak into the man's mind, search through his memories, as the witch tried to explain to him what was going on. A quick glance was enough to tell her there was nothing to be seen. Whoever had left the box for her had done a very good job at covering their tracks.

She made the small box float into the one with the files, closed it, and vanished them both to her home. Checking up and down the hallway to make sure there was no one else there, she modified both the witch's and the wizard's memories, erasing everything related to the small box and making the witch forget about the files she had given her.

Plastering a smile on her face, she lowered her wand and said, "I'm afraid I must go. I have a meeting to attend to."

"Of course, I'm sorry," the witch said. "There are anti-Apparition wards in this area of the hospital, but you can use one of the emergency entrance rooms."

She followed the witch as she started walking again, leaving a puzzled wizard behind. That hallway led to a waiting room, and that to another. Finally, the woman opened a door to their right and stepped inside a small, empty office.

"You can Apparate from here."

"Thank you," Hermione said.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. Have a good day."

"You, too," she said, tightening her hold on her wand as she Apparated back home. The meeting would have to wait.

The second her feet touched solid ground again, Hermione walked into her living room where she had sent the boxes. With one hand she opened a cupboard by the door and reached for her Pensieve, while with the other she summoned the glass phial to her.

She poured the memory into the Pensieve as she walked to her desk, then quickly checked it for any kind of hidden curses, although she didn't think there would be any. As soon as she was positive it would be safe, she set the golden basin on the desk and leaned forward.

No one except for her and Healer Thompson had known she would be at St Mungo's that morning. She hadn't even contacted Caleb before the meeting. She was not, by any means, an easy person to locate, so she was certain that whoever had left the package for her had gone to great lengths to find her. It must have taken power, time and resources to do it, and they had been careful not to leave any clue about their identities.

With a small sigh, she bent forward and touched the twirling memory, knowing that whatever they wanted, it couldn't be good.


	2. Chapter 2

_January 21__st__, 2000_

Hermione knelt down, barely dodging the curse thrown her way, and then rolled to the side, using a large column for cover as she took a few moments to check the damage on her arm. It was bleeding, and she couldn't bend it, but it didn't look too bad. Her ankle, though, that was something else. It was broken, that much was clear. She had heard the bone snap even over the sounds of the fight, and she could feel blood running down her thigh from another wound, covering her entire foot. Her leg didn't hurt too much, but she knew that would change as soon as the adrenaline wore off. Another curse hit the column, sending debris flying around her, and she stood up as best she could, quickly glancing around her, trying to decide what the best course of action would be.

The column was hit again, and she felt it shake behind her. It wouldn't give her cover much longer. She took a small step away from it, trying not to put any weight on her broken ankle, tilting her head to the side just enough to get a glimpse of where her attacker was. She had taken three down already, but the last two were proving trickier. The room was dark, and she had to strain her eyes to see clearly. A quick glance showed her a wizard standing in the middle of the room, just under a large stone arch. A rushed plan quickly formed in her mind.

"Hiding there won't help you," the man yelled, as he moved forward, stepping on some of the debris from the column and making enough noise for her to know where he was without needing to look around again. "Just drop your wand and it will be over. No need to get hurt any more than you already are."

Instead of replying, she twisted her good arm around the column, aimed it towards the ceiling as best she could and fired, then angled her wand a little to the left and fired again. It was only on the third attempt that the arch collapsed. She heard her attacker curse and scramble away, and moved around the column just in time to watch him try to charm the falling stones from crushing him. She'd had no hopes of the stones actually taking him down, but she was counting on them distracting the wizard for a few seconds, and she took full advantage of it.

She limped closer to him as she took aim. One quick curse, that was all it took, and the man was lying on his back, unconscious. But before she could even feel happy about it, she heard movement behind her.

"And that," a deep voice said, sounding overly pleased, "is what I call team work." The tip of a wand stopped her before she could even try to turn around, and she cursed under her breath. How had she let him sneak up on her like that?

A second later every torch in the room was lit, and she had to use her arm for cover as she tried to get her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. The walls around her vanished, showing the real room she was in. Suddenly, she felt the pain from every scrape, every cut, every wound, hit her, and she stumbled backwards.

"Get a healer here!" the man behind her yelled, and she felt the world tilt around her as he hooked an arm under her knees and another around her waist and pulled her into his arms. She heard voices around her, hurried footsteps, but very little of it registered through the pain.

She felt the man run, and when he stopped she felt something cool beneath her. He had laid her down somewhere as he called for healers again.

"What in Merlin's name were you thinking?" he asked, but the only response he got was a pained scream as he touched her broken ankle.

"The healer's still working on Edwards," a man said, his voice sounding much closer than the others. "Is she all right?"

"Get me a Blood Replenishing Potion," the other voice ordered. "Hermione, can you hear me?"

She tried to nod, but her head hurt.

"You never learn, do you?" he said, but she could almost hear a smile in his voice.

Something touched her toe, and then a cold, tingling sensation moved through her foot and up her leg, vanishing the pain as it went. She heard something snap, and knew it was the bones in her ankle moving back into place. The healing cold kept travelling up, spreading once it reached her chest, healing all the wounds on its way.

She felt light-headed again, but this time it was a good feeling. The pain was gone, at last, and she felt a smile form on her lips as she opened her eyes.

Kingsley was leaning over her, the stern expression on his face ruined by the twitching at the corner of his lips, the ghost of a smile he couldn't completely hide.

"Are you all right?" he asked, in that lovely voice of his, and this time she nodded. "Can you sit up?" he asked next, and she nodded again, but still he slipped his arm around her back, helping her up. "Drink this," he said, handing her a small vial she took without question. "Now perhaps you can explain to me what you were thinking, fighting after you'd been wounded like that. You should've stopped the exercise and gone to the healer."

"There are no time outs in real duels, Kingsley."

"This isn't a real duel, it's a training exercise."

"Would you have stopped if it had been you?" she asked, knowing what his answer would be.

He laughed, then shook his head. "You fought well today, it was impressive."

"Not impressive enough, I let you sneak up on me."

"Well, you cannot beat the best," he said, with one of his broad smiles. "Still, four out of five…"

"Though in a real duel, no Death Eater would sacrifice himself like Hodgins did to help you get me."

"You never know. At least now they won't catch you unaware."

"That was rather impressive, Miss Granger," Moody said from somewhere behind her.

"I told you she could do it," Harry said, and she couldn't help but smile at the certainty in his voice.

She sat up a little straighter, trying to look around Kingsley's broad shoulders. "I still didn't win."

"You were alone against five Aurors. You were awesome, Hermione," Harry said with a proud smile.

"Well done, Miss Granger," Hodgins said as he moved closer, his usual smile back on his face now that the exercise was over.

"You, too," she replied with a smile of her own. "How did Kingsley ever convince you to play bait so he could get me?"

"Threatened to pair me with you in every training session from now on if I didn't," he said, and Kingsley laughed at her surprised expression.

"Hodgins here's afraid of you," he whispered, loud enough for the wizard to hear, and got a punch on the shoulder in return.

"All right, that's enough for today," Moody suddenly yelled, waving his wand around the room and leaving everything as it had been before the duel had started. "Next training session, tomorrow at seven."

There were a few tired groans, but no one openly complained. They had been hoping he would give them a day off, but Moody didn't care about them being tired, all he cared about was being prepared, and she couldn't honestly blame him for that.

As everyone started making their way out of the room, she saw the other three wizards that had duelled with her moving closer, two of them walking on their own, but the third one needing a little help, and they all stopped by her as they made their way to the door, shaking her hand and telling her she had done a good job. She did her best to hide the blush that was creeping to her cheeks as she thanked them and told them they had done well, too. Soon it was only her and Kingsley in the room.

"I told you you'd done an impressive job, Cameron can barely walk on his own."

"Thank you," she replied, getting up. "I've had a good teacher."

"That you have," he said with a broad, self-satisfied smile, helping her up even though she didn't need it. "Those were four of my best Aurors," he said after a second, growing serious again. "Not many could have done what you did today."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she settled for a small shrug and a smile and started walking next to him towards the door.

"Have you given my offer any thought?" Kingsley asked, after a moment of silence.

"I have. I just don't think I want to be an Auror."

"Why ever not?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. She knew he loved his job, and that he had hated the months he'd had to spend 'looking over the Ministry,' as he called it. He had been named Minister for Magic, and though he'd proved to be an excellent stand in, he had given the job up as soon as he had been able to. 'I'm a man of action,' he had told her when she'd asked him why he'd gone back to being an Auror. He couldn't imagine life as something other than an Auror, and she couldn't imagine a lifetime of being one.

"I've been fighting since I was a child," she said, trying to explain the unexplainable. "I just... This war will be over one day, and if I'm still alive, I want to do something else with my life. I don't want to spend the rest of my days fighting."

They were almost at the door when Kingsley paused. "You would make a great Auror. You have it in you, everything an Auror needs. You're smart, and powerful, and you are a bloody good fighter."

"Thanks," she said, trying not to blush. "I've had a lot of practice over the years. Being friends with Harry Potter, fighting skills are a must."

He laughed at her comment, but didn't push the matter. She knew Kingsley didn't understand why she wouldn't want to be an Auror, but he accepted it, and for that she was grateful.

She walked over to the hanger by the door and took the set of robes she had left there, as well as the bag she'd brought her training clothes in.

"So, how tired are you?" Kingsley asked as she started putting on the robes. When she turned to him, frowning in confusion, he just smiled, quirked an eyebrow and said, "Up for a little more training?"

"I've just spent the last two hours duelling four of the Ministry's best Aurors, plus Kingsley Shacklebolt himself."

"You can't tell me you're too tired, you're never too tired," he said. "And you're always willing to learn some new tricks."

"Don't you think two hours is enough for one day?" she asked, even as she slipped her arm back out of the robes and returned them to the hanger.

"Two hours? That can hardly be called training. Warm-up, at best," he said, undoing his own robes and taking them off. "Besides, you need to get better with blocking low shots; that would've saved your ankle earlier."

"So, Mister Shacklebolt, I was fighting five Aurors earlier, but now it's just you and me. You think you can take me?" she taunted as she walked back to the centre of the room.

"Think you're so good, don't you?" he asked, hanging his robes and walking after her. She turned back to him and spread her arms in a small shrug for response, as she watched him walk closer, trying to stop her eyes from wandering from his face to that oh-so-distracting body of his. It wasn't easy to do, but, as with the fighting, she'd had a lot of practice during the last few months. "You know what they say, the only way to be the best is to defeat the best," he said, wiggling his eyebrows as he stopped a few feet from her. "Think you're ready?"

She laughed as she pulled her wand from its sheath, moving around him in a fighting stance. "You know me, I do love a challenge," she said, then fired the first curse.

He moved so fast, he always moved so fast, that she didn't even see him block her attack; in fact, the only reason why she was able to deflect his curse was that she knew it was coming. She'd spent countless hours training with him, and she knew how he fought.

Hermione threw another curse, and then another, and another, as she backed away from him. She could hear him laugh as he blocked each of her attacks, taking a step forward with every step back she took, not even bothering to attack her himself. He wanted to tire her out, and then he would have her.

No matter how many times she fought him, his style, his reflexes, his power always amazed her. She couldn't remember ever seeing someone move so fast, except perhaps Voldemort himself. She knew she wasn't good enough to defeat Kingsley, not by a long shot. The only reason she had managed to defeat his Aurors earlier was that she had seen them fight countless times during training sessions, and she had made it a point to study their strengths and weaknesses. Some would focus on the attack, but were no good at defensive magic, which left them vulnerable if she managed to surprise them.

Others would hesitate before using the most powerful spells, which sometimes gave her just enough time to dodge or block them. She knew what kind of magic they preferred, the curses they used most of the time, and that had allowed her to be ready for them, but still it had taken her weeks of practice to finally beat the four of them in a duel. She knew what her own strengths were in a fight and out, and she made sure to exploit them to the maximum.

But with Kingsley it was different. He was the best she had fought against, and she wasn't ready to beat him yet. He knew that, and he always found a way to taunt her into duels, challenge her to fight him, because he knew her well enough to know that was the easiest way to get her to give her best. "Won't be the best until you defeat the best," he always said, and it worked, every single time.

Today he had decided to let her do all the work, counting on her being tired after the training session, and she knew she had to make him fight back now or his plan would work. When she was exhausted, her defensive spells weakened the most, and he'd used that to his advantage more than once.

She attacked with the most usual spells and curses first, waiting for him to lower his guard, then threw a jinx at him right after a blocked curse, hoping he would be so focused on the curse that such minor magic might slip past his defences.

When the jinx hit him it was her time to laugh as she watched his legs start shaking under him, but even as she laughed she continued to attack. She knew he would focus on the most urgent problem, the curses she was throwing at him, and that he wouldn't be able to take enough time to even mutter the counter-jinx without risking one of her curses getting through his protective spells.

"Well, aren't we sneaky today," he said after a few moments, as he fought to remain standing, echoing her laughter as he went from defending himself to attacking.

She was able to block the first few curses as she threw some of her own, but then he made a strange series of movements with his wand, something she'd never seen anyone do before, and suddenly she was flying back against the wall, hitting it hard enough that she almost dropped her own wand.

She fell to the floor, feeling as if her head was about to explode and every bone in her body had vanished, but still she fought to scramble to her feet, keeping as tight a hold on her wand as she could while she watched him calmly walk closer to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, but instead of answering she groaned in pain and let herself fall down.

He lowered his wand, his expression worried as he hurried his step, and she used his distraction to hit him with another curse, sending him flying against the opposite wall. She heard a low, pained groan, and then his laughter filled the air. "Oh, you devious little thing."

"You're the one that taught me there are no rules in a real duel," she said, smiling too as she stood up and rested back against the wall.

"And it's the utmost truth," he replied, standing up himself and once again walking closer to her, though this time he held his wand in front of him, ready for another attack.

"Hello?" someone suddenly called from outside the room, interrupting. The voice sounded urgent. "Anyone still here?"

Kingsley turned away from her and hurriedly walked to the door, opening it wide.

"What's wrong?" she heard him ask.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Molly Weasley replied.

"What's happened?"

"I just got a message from Albus. I tried to Floo the rest of the Order, but couldn't find anyone. I was hoping there would still be someone here."

"The others already left," Kingsley said. "They've probably gone out for a few drinks; that might be why you can't contact them."

"Well, if they are out there in public we cannot use a Patronus Charm to call them," Molly said, wriggling her hands together nervously.

"Why did you need them? What did Albus say?"

"He said one of our spies had contacted him to inform him that a group of Death Eaters were about to leave their headquarters on some kind of mission. Albus said he didn't know where they were going, or why, but from what the spy said, he gathered it was important."

"What did he want us to do?"

"He wanted to send a team there, to find out what's going on. If they're planning an attack we'll need to know and call reinforcements, but Albus thinks if that were the case the spy would know it, so it has to be something else."

"How much time do we have?"

"Not much, that's why I hurried here."

"We could try to contact the rest of the Order in person, but without knowing where they are, it might take too long. Perhaps-" he started, then hesitated and turned to her. "What do you say, Hermione, up for a little field work?"

"I-" she paused for a moment, surprised at his request. So far she hadn't been allowed on many Order missions. In fact, she'd only been out on four, all of them low risk and with more than a few Order members tagging along. It seemed as if the Order was trying to make sure Harry stayed out of trouble, and that unfortunately also meant she and Ron were cut out from the action.

"Come on, Hermione, I know you've been dying to get out for weeks. This is your chance to do it. Besides, we mustn't forget the added bonus of a possible real fight," Kingsley said, excitement clear on his voice.

"Actually," Mrs Weasley said, "I don't think that's what Albus had in mind. Hermione's too young to go on such missions, and we have Aurors that are trained for that kind of situation. Perhaps we should-"

But neither of them was listening to her any more. Kingsley had his back to the witch as he watched Hermione intently, waiting for her response. It took her but a second to make up her mind, and a broad grin spread across her face. Of course she'd love to get out of headquarters, to be useful to the Order, to go on a mission without a group of Aurors guarding her every step as if their only mission in life was to make sure she, Ron and Harry would be safe.

With a grin of his own, he turned back to Molly, pointing at something the witch was holding. "Is that the Portkey to the location?"

"Well, yes, but-"

Kingsley reached forward and took the large coin from her hand. "I'll take care of that. If we run into trouble, we'll contact the Order again. Shall we?" he added, turning back to Hermione and offering her his hand. With a quick look at the frowning witch, she took Kingsley's hand and let him pull her to him, using her other hand to touch the Portkey just as he activated it.


	3. Chapter 3

"Minister," she heard Lorraine call as she opened the door to the office. "Miss Granger is here to see you." She couldn't hear his reply, but after a few seconds Lorraine turned around with her trademark smile and said, "You can come in, dear."

"Thank you," she said, walking past her and into the office, hearing her close the door a moment later.

"Hermione, I was getting worried about you, love," Caleb said, walking to her and giving her a quick kiss. "I think this is the first time in all the years I've known you that you've been late for anything," he told her with a smile. "I was beginning to think I'd have to cancel our reservation for tonight."

"I'm sorry I'm late; the meeting with your friend, Healer Thompson, took longer than I had anticipated."

"I'm sorry about that," he said with that smile he used when he knew he'd done something wrong, and he was trying to charm his way out of trouble. He knew it didn't work on her, but still he never stopped trying. "You look upset, why don't I apologize about it over a drink? We still have a little time before dinner."

She watched him in silence as he slipped the files he'd been working on into a drawer, stood up and walked to the cupboard where she knew he kept his best bottles of liquor. He took two glasses and poured his most expensive firewhisky in, then returned the bottle to the cupboard and closed it, taking his time. She waited patiently for him to sit back down, and when he offered her a glass, she reached for it and took a long sip. She really wasn't looking forward to saying what she had to say.

"I know I shouldn't have told Thompson about you, especially without discussing it with you first, but if you've seen the files you know why I thought you should be involved in this."

"I haven't read the files yet. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about, in fact."

"What was it, then?" he asked, then took a sip of his drink.

"Did you tell anyone I would be at St Mungo's?"

It took him a second to get over the shock at her question. "Of course not. I didn't even know when you'd be going."

"Do you think Thompson could've told anyone about it?"

He sat up straighter in his chair, a worried look on his face. "I don't think he would have. I made it very clear to him that your involvement in this should stay strictly between the three of us, or there would be no deal. I know perfectly well the reasons why you insist on those terms, Hermione, and I would never risk your safety," he assured her, reaching forward and taking her hand in his.

"Someone found out I would be there today."

His hand tensed around hers, and his worried frown deepened. "Did anyone attack you?" he asked. "I didn't hear of any incident, I haven't-"

"No, there was no attack, Caleb. Whoever it was, they didn't approach me directly. They left this there for me," she said, reaching inside her pocket and pulling the small box out.

He hesitated for a second, then took the box with his free hand and opened it. "A memory?"

She simply nodded.

"Have you watched it?"

"Yes," she said. She was finding it hard to form longer sentences. Just the memory of what she had seen-

"Well?" he said, after a few seconds of silence, and she closed her eyes, trying to push those images away.

She licked her lips, unsure of how to explain. Finally, she said, "I think you should see for yourself."

"You're starting to worry me, love. Just tell me what this is about."

"Please, Caleb, just…just watch it."

He stared at her for a few moments, searching her eyes for a sign of what was going on. Then he squeezed her hand and let go, reaching for his wand and summoning his Pensieve.

He poured the memory inside and looked up at her again for a second, as if waiting for some kind of reassurance, before finally touching the smoky surface. She didn't need to watch those memories again; once had been enough.

It took Caleb almost half an hour before he was ready to pull away from the Pensieve, and when he sat back again she noticed his eyes were slightly glazed over, his face pale. He looked as shocked at what he had seen as she was sure she had.

"Do you have any idea who could've sent this to you?" he asked after a few moments, and she could tell he was finding it hard to focus after what he had seen.

"No," was all she managed to reply. She knew what he had seen, and she had to blink back the tears that quickly welled in her eyes as she tried to focus on what really mattered now.

"I…" He took a deep breath, and then started over in a soft voice. "We don't even know if those memories are real."

"They are, Caleb," she whispered. "No one meddled with them, we would've seen it."

"But they…the most recent ones have to be at least three years old. Since the end of the war no one…" He trailed off.

She had seen horrible things in her life, she had seen more pain, more death and suffering than any person ever should, but still this…Watching those witches and wizards being tortured by Death Eaters, hearing them scream and cry, begging their captors to stop, even when they knew they wouldn't…it was too much.

Knowing it was only a memory didn't help, either; it only made her feel more impotent, forced to stand there and watch it all happen without being able to do anything to help, to make their pain stop. To silence their screams.

"Was there any other message?" Caleb asked, and she gave him the small piece of parchment they'd left. "Why would they send you this?"

Her eyes wandered to the Pensieve, as if it would suddenly give her an answer. "I have no idea, but there has to be a reason."

"You're not an easy person to find, and it would be nearly impossible to follow you without you noticing. Whoever sent you this, they went through great efforts to do it. I doubt anyone would do something like that just to mess with your head."

"I've been thinking about it since I first saw the memories. They said they would contact me again soon. What could they want from me?"

"I have no idea," he said, absently touching his wand to the Pensieve and pouring the memory back into the glass phial. "I couldn't see many details in the memory, the Death Eaters were wearing masks, and the others…it was too dark to make out any faces, and the different memories were moving through too fast."

She took the phial, put it back inside the box and buried it into her pocket, as far as it could go. "I tried to slow them down, and to increase the light, but it didn't work."

"Yes, I couldn't do that, either."

"Do you think they're…do you think they still have them?" she asked, not sure what answer she would rather get.

"I have no idea, but why would they send this to you if they didn't?"

"I thought we'd put virtually every Death Eater in Azkaban, but whoever sent me this…I don't think this was done by one person alone. What if they-"

Caleb reached forward again, taking her hand again and squeezing it reassuringly. "It's all right, you don't have to worry," he whispered. "We'll figure this out."

She suddenly felt like a child again, so afraid, so vulnerable, so helpless. She'd done everything she could to be strong, had worked hard to leave that silly child she'd once been behind and be old beyond her age, do what had to be done. Now some bastards were making it all crumble down with just a memory.

She took a deep breath, pushed all emotions out of her mind, and focused solely on the facts. "Those memories came from someone who was there while they were being tortured."

"I doubt there's a way to know who from just the memories, all the Death Eaters were wearing masks. And those memories could come from more than one person," Caleb said.

"Either way, it's clear that they wanted me to know they had taken prisoners over the years, but they didn't let us see who they had."

"Everyone I saw was wearing the Order's robes. They could have put them on other prisoners, but it wouldn't make much sense."

"No, you're right. They wanted us to know they had people from the Order. Perhaps by not showing us their faces they are trying to fool us into believing they have more prisoners than they really do? But still, they only sent these memories, there was no other message, no demands."

"They did say they would contact you again," he said, and she nodded.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make sense of what had happened, of what they had sent her. If they wanted something from her, why didn't they make any demands? And if they didn't, then why send those memories at all? It seemed to be a lot of hard work, getting them to her, for the sole purpose of just messing with her head.

"Perhaps they want us to wonder, and to talk to the rest of the Order before they tell us what they want," Caleb said, after a few moments of silence.

"Unless that is what they really want," she suddenly said, and saw him frown in confusion. "It's been years since all the surviving Order members have met. What if they're just using this to make us contact everyone, and then they attack us?"

"I guess that's a possibility, but I doubt it's what they're planning."

"Why?"

"You haven't read the files Thompson gave you. If you had, you'd understand. All the victims were part of the Order during the second war."

"They're all Order members? Why didn't he say so? Everyone knows I was with the Order."

"Thompson doesn't know," Caleb explained. "You know we kept the identities of many members a secret during and after the war, Hermione. In fact, he doesn't know I was part of the Order, either."

"Then why didn't you tell him?"

"Because it's not relevant, not to him. Knowing the connection between the victims won't change the fact that the healers can't figure out how to help them. That's why I told him to contact you. And that's also why I don't think they want to get us together to kill us; if they did, they wouldn't have started those attacks, they had to know we would see the connection."

"So not only did they find out where I'd be and managed to deliver the memory without leaving any tracks, they also attacked people only another member would know were once part of the Order," she said, and he nodded. "Then what could they want?"

"I don't know, but I'm not sure we should contact the other members until we know more."

"We should at least warn them about the attacks."

"I did. I sent them a message this morning, as soon as Thompson left my office."

She was about to ask him why he hadn't contacted her, too, when she heard the door behind her open.

"What is it, Lorraine?" Caleb asked with a frown, quickly letting go of her hand.

As she turned around to look, Lorraine's gaze met hers. Her eyes looked slightly glazed over.

"You're Hermione Granger," the witch said in a flat tone. "I have to deliver a package to you."

Hermione was out of her seat before the last word had left the witch's lips. She ran past her and out of the office, performing every tracking spell she could think of. There was no sign of anyone but Lorraine having entered the outer room in the last half hour. If they had entered before then, there was no way to track them down.

"Hermione, what's going on?" she heard Caleb ask from behind her, and when she turned around she saw he had his wand out, too.

She walked past him without a word, back into the office. It didn't seem Lorraine had moved an inch since she'd left.

"Who sent you here?"

"You're Hermione Granger, I have to deliver a package to you," the witch repeated, as if she hadn't heard her question. Hermione watched her reach inside her pocket, and knew what she was going to pull out before she even saw it.

"What's going on?"

"They left another message," she told Caleb as Lorraine pulled a small box from her pocket, identical to the one they'd left for her at St Mungo's.

She saw Caleb move closer, and reached out to stop him just before he could summon the box to him. "Don't," she said. "The moment I summoned the box from the other wizard this morning it seemed as if he'd come out of a trance. We have to see if delivering the box is what triggers the Memory Charm; if it does, then by searching the memories without taking the box from her we might be able to see who gave it to her."

"You really think they'd leave the memories intact until the box was delivered?"

"Not really, but it's worth a try. They could've wanted to minimize the danger; why perform two Memory Charms when they could do only one?"

Caleb took a step back to give her some room, but she shook her head. "You're better at Memory Charms than I am. If there's still something useful in her head, you're more likely to find it."

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she nodded, managing a small smile.

She watched him aim his wand at Lorraine, and then he started muttering the words to different Memory Charms, going from the basic ones to the more complex, his expression darkening as the minutes ticked by.

Lorraine's face remained calm, empty, her eyes still glazed over, but as the power of Caleb's magic grew stronger, small beads of sweat started forming on her forehead. Soon colour began draining from her face, and her lips turned blue, as if she were rapidly freezing. With the last spell her eyes widened and she fell backwards, not even trying to break the fall with her arms.

Caleb stumbled slightly and lowered his wand. Only then did she notice he looked every bit as pale as Lorraine did. His knees suddenly gave way, and he fell forward. She barely managed to grab him before he hit the ground face-first, keeping him on his knees as she reached for the wand she'd just dropped and started casting energizing spells on him. She waited until she was sure he was strong enough before moving on to Lorraine, crawling closer to her and going through the same spells all over again.

"What happened?" she asked Caleb as she tried to revive the witch. She'd seen Memory Charms performed more times than she cared to count, she'd cast them herself dozens of times, and never had she seen them affect anyone this strongly.

"You were right," he said, his voice almost a rasp. "They hadn't erased the memories yet."

She watched him slowly slide closer to the wall, resting his back against it, then tilt his head to the side so he could look at her. "Did you see anything useful?" she asked, touching Lorraine's cheek and noticing how cold her skin felt. She hoped it had been worth it.

"My attempt to see the memories triggered the Memory Charm. It seemed to go from the most recent ones to the older, so I tried to go faster than the charm did, but the more power I put into my charms the faster theirs went. It took me a few moments to notice they had set another spell, one meant to attack whoever tried to break into Lorraine's mind."

"That's why she fainted?" she asked, and he nodded, then cringed at the movement and rested his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

"The more power I put into the Memory Charm, the stronger their spell got. If I'd gone any longer, it probably would've killed us both."

Hermione looked down at Lorraine again. She still looked pale, and her skin was still cold, but her breathing and pulse were strong. "Will she be all right?"

"I think so, but we should still get a healer to see her, just in case. I didn't use any magic that would hurt her, but there's no way to know how the other spells affected her."

With a small nod, she summoned a quill from his desk, turned it into a Portkey and sent Lorraine to the infirmary. Once the witch was gone, Hermione leaned closer to Caleb, reaching out to touch his face. "You're cold. Perhaps we should take you to a healer, as well."

He laughed at her words, then waved his hand dismissively. "I'm all right, just give me a few minutes to recover. It might not show, but I'm not as young as I used to be."

She rolled her eyes at his comment, and he laughed again. He was only seven years older than her, the second youngest Minister for Magic in England's recent history; he just loved complaining.

Suddenly his face grew serious, and she followed his gaze to the small box Lorraine had been holding. It was lying open on the floor, and another glass phial had rolled out of it.

"Another memory," she said as she reached for it.

"So it seems," Caleb said, summoning the Pensieve to him and then patting the floor beside him, waiting for her to sit next to him before taking the phial from her hand and pouring it into the basin.


	4. Chapter 4

_January 21st, 2000_

The room around her vanished with the familiar pull in her belly from the Portkey being activated, and suddenly she and Kingsley were standing in the middle of a small park. A quick look around told her exactly where they were.

"Get down," Kingsley suddenly whispered, pulling her to him as he crouched behind a stone bench.

She followed Kingsley's gaze, her eyes narrowing as she tried to see something through the darkness. It took her a few seconds, but finally a moving shadow caught her eye. How had Kingsley seen it so fast?

"You see them?" he asked, and she nodded. "I count eleven, but there might be more. It's hard to say with the black robes and hoods."

They stayed there waiting, crouching for so long that her legs were starting to tremble, as they watched the Death Eaters' every move. They were setting a perimeter, the group spreading out in a large half-circle around the block.

"Seems they want to break into the building," Kingsley said, as three of the Death Eaters separated from the rest of the group and moved closer to the wide set of stairs.

"That's the British Museum," Hermione said under her breath. "Why would they want to get in there in the middle of the night?"

"And here I thought you knew your history," he teased, his eyes still on the three wizards slowly moving closer to the entrance. "Some of the things exposed in the museum are magical artefacts. Not only in the Egyptian expositions, but in many others as well. They are probably here to steal something."

"But why break into the museum when it's closed? Wouldn't it be easier to simply get inside when it's open and use magic to steal whatever they want?"

She saw his lips twist into a smile, and she knew he was pleased by her questions, her need to know. It was a refreshing change from her friends, who usually just groaned when she started questioning something. "About three decades ago," he explained quietly, "the Museum bought a Greek collection that was under a curse. There were a series of deaths, and the Ministry was forced to contact the Museum's director when it became evident that it was indeed magic that had caused them. Since then, every item that goes into the museum is first checked by Ministry Curse Breakers, and special security measures are set into place."

"I didn't know that."

"Most witches and wizards have no interest in Muggle museums at all, and don't know there are magical objects inside, some of them extremely rare and valuable. The Minister back then decided it would be safer if the wizarding community knew nothing about it, so it was kept a secret. In fact, over the last few years wards have been placed in every major museum in the country to alert security to the entrance of any witch or wizard."

"Won't all those security measures work at night, as well?"

"They should, but I assume the Death Eaters have found a way around them," he said. The three wizards had reached the main entrance, and she could see a few rays of dim blue light around them, which meant they were breaking through the wards.

"We're going in after them, be ready," Kingsley whispered, his gaze still glued to the museum's entrance.

There was a loud crack, and the large double doors opened widely. One of the three wizards turned around and made a signal to the rest of the Death Eaters, and then the three of them entered the building.

The remaining Death Eaters turned away from the entrance, clearly keeping watch in case security showed up. Kingsley waited a few moments until all were set into place before moving.

"I'll go first, you wait for the spell, then follow me fast," he said, then started moving before she had time to ask him anything.

He moved fast, vanishing into the darkness with an ease that amazed her. She held her breath as she waited, every muscle in her body tensing, ready for action as her eyes focused on the Death Eaters standing guard, prepared to attack if any of them noticed Kingsley before he was ready.

A streak of silver light flashed through the night, there was a bang like a gunshot, the ground trembled slightly, and the Death Eaters fell down as one. Kingsley stood up a moment later, and started running towards the open doors. Without wasting a second she broke into a run after him.

He waited for her to reach him before aiming his wand at the Death Eaters. One by one eight bodies were lifted, until they were all standing, like they had been before Kingsley's spell had hit them. "Go inside," he whispered, walking backwards after her, muttering a few words as they moved, so that the moment they were inside the building all the Death Eaters awoke at once, looking as if nothing had happened.

"You have to teach me that one," she told Kingsley, amazed at what he had just done.

"We'll see," he said with a smile, turning around and walking further into the entrance hall. "They seem to have disabled all the security wards."

"Could they have done that without knowing exactly which wards they would find beforehand?" she asked, and Kingsley shook his head.

"Not this fast."

"Think they have an informant?"

"Clearly," he said, moving his wand as he performed what she knew was a tracking charm. "This way."

They walked through room after room, up and down stairs, in what seemed to be a random path. "Seems they didn't know where to find what they were looking for," Kingsley said, after almost half an hour of tracking.

"I just hope they don't search the entire museum, or we'll be here until sunrise," she said, and saw Kingsley smile.

"Missions can be boring sometimes; you don't always get to fight."

The adrenaline from the training session and the idea of being out on a mission was starting to wear off, and she had to admit she was tired. She just wished they'd get to the Death Eaters soon, so she could finally go back to headquarters and get some rest. It had been a long day.

"Be careful, you incompetent fool," someone hissed from a room close by, and Kingsley stopped walking for a few seconds, then reached for her and pulled her closer to the door, their backs to the wall.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," another man replied, clearly not worried about being quiet.

Kingsley turned to her for a second, wanting to make sure she was ready before he started forward. The door they were next to lead to a round hallway with six more doors.

They moved slowly, trying not to make any noise as they walked, not sure in which room the Death Eaters were.

"If you drop that thing I swear you will be begging me to kill you long before I'm done with you," Malfoy, threatened.

Signalling her to wait there, Kingsley Disillusioned himself and carefully walked to one of the open doors, leaning around the frame to look inside.

"The three of them are in there," he said a few seconds later, lifting the charm from around himself. "I need to get closer to see what they're stealing, but I don't want them to know I'm there, so I will need you to distract them. Can you do that?"

"Distract them how?"

"Just keep them out of the room for a few minutes."

"I can do that."

"Be careful," he said with a stern look. "If you're in danger you call for me, or Apparate away. If you get hurt, I will make you train with Tonks for a month," he threatened, and she smiled and nodded. "Go into one of the expositions we walked by earlier and make enough noise for them to hear you."

"Be careful," she said, then ran back the way they'd come.

She went back to one of the previous rooms they'd seen, the one she remembered had the least objects inside, and cast a quick charm around everything in there, wanting to prevent things from being destroyed as much as she could. She walked to the far end of the room and stepped behind a large bust; it was the best cover the room would offer. She took a moment to focus, reminding herself this was not another training exercise, that this was the real thing, and then she twirled her wand in mid-air, causing a loud bang. She hoped it would be loud enough for the Death Eaters in the other room to hear, but not enough to alert the ones standing guard outside.

Someone yelled, and she heard the sound of footsteps getting closer. She caused another bang, and a few seconds later two of the Death Eaters rushed into the room. The third one had stayed behind, and she hoped Kingsley would manage to do whatever he had planned with the wizard there.

Hermione watched the Death Eaters slowly move forward, their eyes searching the room and their wands ready to attack. She crouched lower and carefully moved around the bust as they walked closer, until both wizards had their backs to her.

As she stood up and turned to aim her wand at them, her shoe creaked ever so slightly against the floor, but it was enough to alert the wizards. They both turned around in a flash of movement and attached at the same time, giving her just enough time to throw herself to the floor. As the large bust was blown into a million pieces, she twisted her arm around what was left of the stone base and sent a Stunning Spell straight into one of the Death Eater's chest.

She watched him fall as she blocked the curse sent by the other wizard, but as she got to her feet and attacked again she heard more footsteps from behind her. She turned around so that her back was to the wall, knowing the steps were from the other Death Eaters, and wanting to avoid being surrounded.

With a quick series of movements, she shot curse after curse at the Death Eater in front of her, and finally one of them slipped through his shields and hit him hard, a deep cut appearing on his chest and distracting him just enough for her next curse to hit him, sending him flying past the door he had come through.

But before she could even attempt to get away, the other Death Eaters were in the room, all standing in front of her with their wands aimed firmly her way.

"What brings you here, baby girl?" a woman's voice came from behind one of the masks. "Felt like playing with the grownups?" she asked, and then laughed at her own comment.

"Didn't do your math right, girly. Eight against one looks like bad odds to me," another wizard said, and a few of them nodded their agreement.

She used the time they were wasting with their taunts to analyze the situation, trying to decide the best course of action. Kingsley had told her to Apparate away if she was in trouble, but with eight wands pointed at her, there was no chance she would manage to leave before they attacked her. It would only take one curse to kill her, so Apparating wasn't an option. She didn't think she would've just left if she could have, anyway, not if that meant leaving Kingsley behind.

The other option was obvious, fight the Death Eaters so she could get back to Kingsley and get the hell out of there, but that was easier said than done. She knew her limitations, and she couldn't take down eight Death Eaters, not with all of them standing in front of her like a firing squad, ready to attack.

"What's the matter, afraid to take me on by yourself?" she asked the one that had spoken last, and he laughed heartily before taking a step forward.

"Bring it on, little girl."

As soon as the words left his lips, she fired three stunners in quick succession, and heard him laugh as he easily blocked them.

"That all you got?" he said, clearly underestimating her, just as she had hoped he would. The second he looked to the side to share the joke with the others she hit him with the same curse she had used on the other Death Eater, sending him flying backwards and into two of his friends.

She barely had a second to check the other Death Eaters' positions before they started attacking her. Five of them shot curse after curse, while the other two fought to push the cocky Death Eater off of them. She had trouble blocking the attacks as it were, never getting enough time to do anything other than defend herself, but she knew that as soon as the other two joined the duel she would be lost.

Just then, as if he had been waiting until the last possible minute to offer some help, Kingsley ran through the door, yelled, "Get down!" and aimed his wand at the Death Eaters attacking her. His spell lit the room as she crouched out of its way, watching it hit them one right after the other, their movements pausing for a few seconds.

"Run!" he yelled as the Death Eaters started moving again. It was like watching a slow motion picture at first, but their movements were quickly gaining speed, and she did just what Kingsley had said, hearing him running right after her. "They set anti-Apparition wards," he yelled, dodging a curse shot at them and twisting his arm enough to fire one of his own at the wizards running after them without missing a step. "We have to get to the entrance hall."

She turned around as she ran, blocking a few more curses and throwing more of her own as she followed Kingsley down a path she hoped would take them straight to the exit. The Death Eaters were gaining on them, and it was hard to block their attacks while running.

Every muscle in her body screamed at the effort as the minutes ticked by, and she pushed herself harder, trying to run as fast as she could, knowing they were only a few rooms away from the hall, but the ache in her side didn't let her lungs take as much air as they needed.

She kept on running, dodging and blocking more and more curses as she entered the last room before the entrance hall. Just a few more yards and they would be able to Apparate away from that place.

Suddenly she felt Kingsley's hand on her shoulder, pushing her to the side as a shot of green light flew past her, close enough that it burnt the sleeve of her top. She hadn't expected the sudden push and she lost her balance, stumbling a few feet forward and almost crashing into a column.

"Hermione!" Kingsley yelled for her, reaching out and taking her hand, pulling her to him as he all but carried her past the last door before another curse hit her. He Apparated them both away the second they stepped into the entrance hall.

The Museum seemed to twirl around her, and then they were back in the Order's training room. Kingsley's grip on her loosened as they were Apparating, and she lost her balance before her feet could touch solid ground, falling hard on her arse. Kingsley stumbled as well, but managed to remain standing.

"Bloody hell," she groaned, twisting her wrists to see how much she'd hurt them trying to break the fall. "What the hell are you laughing at?" she asked, glaring up at Kingsley.

"I'm sorry, I just…" Kingsley tried to control his laughter but was failing miserably. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," she said, hating the smile twisting her lips. His laughter was too damn contagious. "It's your fault I fell, by the way," she said, reaching forward to take the hand he was offering.

"You weren't holding on tight enough," he said, with a shrug.

Just as his hand closed around hers she pulled him down, moving her feet at the same time to push his legs back, tripping him. She watched his eyes widen in surprise as he fell, and she started laughing all over again.

"Careful there, you might break something," she said between laughs, and he started laughing, too, even as he cursed and got to his feet.

"Come here, witch," he growled, reaching for her hand and pulling her to her feet before she could attempt something else.

"Now, wasn't your first real mission fun?"

"We were alone against almost a dozen Death Eaters, we could've been killed."

"Yes, and don't tell me you didn't enjoy every minute of it," he said, his eyes shining as he searched her face for the truth. "Come on, I can see it in your eyes," he insisted when she didn't reply. "You love a good fight; we both know it, so why pretend otherwise?"

She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, every muscle in her body ready for whatever she needed, her hand twitching around her wand. He was right, it had been awesome, the two of them alone against all those Death Eaters. And the best part had been the knowledge that the danger was real. They weren't in a controlled surrounding, it wasn't a training exercise. A mistake there could have cost them their lives, and as crazy as it sounded, she had loved the feeling.

"See? I knew it. I know you too well, Miss Granger," he said with an even broader smile.

"Don't look so smug, Mister Shacklebolt," she said, punching him on the shoulder while still trying not to smile. When he winced in pain she looked down to where she had hit him. "You're bleeding," she said, forgetting the banter as she focused on the wound.

"It's nothing," he said, but she wasn't listening to him. There was a deep gash on his shoulder, and she pulled his shirt to the side to get a better look.

"It looks deep," she muttered, reaching forward with her other hand, but before she could touch the wound his fingers wrapped around her wrist tightly, stopping her.

"I said it was nothing," he repeated, his voice deeper than usual.

She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she looked up into his face, ready to tell him to shut up and let her check the cut, but the words never left her lips, forgotten as she realised just how very close they were standing.

There was intensity in his eyes she hadn't seen before, not even during a fight, but his expression was serious, almost thoughtful, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do next. Her gaze darted to his lips, and she cursed herself for doing something so obvious when he was so close, when there was no way he wouldn't notice. Knowing she was probably blushing, she quickly looked away. Before she could say anything, however, she felt his other hand on her chin, making her face him again. The next second his lips were on hers, and her gasp of surprise gave him just what he needed to deepen the kiss.

Never in her life, not even once, had she been kissed like that, with such passion, such need. She felt her legs go weak, and she moved her hands to Kingsley's arms, needing support. The thought of stopping him, of pulling away, never crossed her mind. In fact, even if she hadn't been attracted to Kingsley for months, even if she hadn't spent so many days and nights imagining what it would be like to have those full lips on her, she didn't think she would have managed to form a single coherent thought, not while he was kissing her in such a way.

She had kissed other men too, or actually, boys. Perhaps that made the difference? Either way, she had been kissed before, but it had never felt like that. Viktor had been very passionate, but she had been young, and had never let it go quite so far. And Ron…well, actually this, just Kingsley kissing her, felt better than anything she had ever done with Ron. How pathetic was that?

Kingsley's hands moved to her waist, pulling her tightly to him, and she forgot what she was thinking. She hadn't even realised she was kissing him back, or that her own hands had moved from his arms to his back, her fingers slipping under his shirt, just enough to touch his skin.

She moaned Kingsley's name into the kiss, pulling him closer to her, her nails sinking into his back just enough to make him groan. By the time he broke the kiss she was breathless and more aroused than she could ever remember being. He tilted his head back to look at her, licking his lips and watching her eyes follow the movement as if she had been bewitched.

With a roguish smirk he moved his hands from her waist to her thighs, hastily pulling her up so that her eyes were now level with his. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as she watched him and he watched her.

His chest was heaving with every breath he took, and his lips were swollen from kissing her, and she found it hard to focus on anything else. Then he leaned forward and nibbled on her bottom lip as he started walking. She had no idea where he was going and honestly didn't care. Not as long as he kept kissing her.

She felt the wall against her back as he sat her on one of the small chest of drawers in the room, but he was too tall, and the chest too small, and he had to break the kiss, laughing deliciously when she groaned and tilted her head up, searching for his lips. But instead of kissing her again, he reached for his wand and muttered a few words, and she felt the chest shake slightly under her as it grew into the perfect height.

"That's better," he muttered before fisting his hand in her hair and tilting her head back, his lips kissing and nibbling on her neck, finding every sensitive spot she knew of and quite a few new ones, studying her reaction and always going back to the ones that made her body arch into him. His other hand was around her waist, pulling her closer to the edge, pressing his body flush against hers.

She needed to touch him, to feel those firm muscles shift under her fingers, so she slid her hands down and around his waist, pulling him closer and slipping her fingers under his shirt while she raked her nails down his back and got just the reaction she had been hoping for.

His hips bucked against hers as he groaned, biting on her shoulder and moving his hands to her thighs, pulling her closer still and letting her feel how hard he was, how much he wanted this. The next time his lips left her skin it was so he could pull her top over her head, absently throwing it somewhere behind him before moving his hands around her back to unclasp her bra. She used the chance to push his shirt off, pulling him down for another kiss as soon as their arms were out of the way.

Their movements were fast, frantic and full of need, but still to her it felt as if things were happening in slow motion. Every touch, every kiss seemed to last so long, and left her skin tingling even after they were over.

It was the cold against her thighs that made her break their kiss and look down, surprised to see they were both naked. She heard him laugh again at her look of surprise, feeling his chest reverberate against hers, and barely noticed the clattering sound of his wand hitting the floor. She had no idea when she had let of her own. The world was still reduced to Kingsley, and what he was doing to her.

But just like a few moments before everything had seemed to be happening in slow motion, now all the sensations seemed to be rushing at her as Kingsley grabbed her hips, pulled her forward, and buried himself inside of her.

His lips were on her jaw, her neck, his hands on her breasts, his hips thrusting in a slow rhythm that made her moan in pleasure and ask for more. His skin felt scorching against hers, every touch leaving her burning, arching against him or pulling him to her, needing his skin against hers.

And the sounds he made, those low growls that made his chest shake and her body shiver as he upped his pace, moving deeper, faster into her, filling her so completely, so deliciously.

She wrapped her legs around him, trying to meet his every thrust as she listened to the filthy things he groaned into her ear, as she felt him so deep inside her, as she felt her body tighten around him, the pleasure mounting until she couldn't hold back any more. She came with his name on her lips, and that seemed to break the last of his self control, as he started pounding into her, that perfectly controlled rhythm lost as he, too, came undone.


	5. Chapter 5

The fog made it almost impossible to see the shore, but the cold seeping into her body and the sense of dismay worming into her chest made it clear they were getting close. She pulled her robes tighter around her, in hopes of a warmth she knew wouldn't come until they were on their way back home.

The waves rocked the small boat, and she took a deep breath, hoping the movement wouldn't make her sick. Her gaze moved along the surface of the water, and her stomach tightened with a sense of unease at the thought of what could lie hidden deep under the surface. How many witches and wizards had drowned in that same water, lost while trying to escape the madness that clouded their minds within those stone walls she would be seeing again soon? How many had died during the war, if the rumours were true, in situations that had nothing to do with attempted escapes, and hadn't been quite so accidental?

A strange thought crossed her mind, almost an image, of a dead, rotten hand reaching out for her from the dark water and pulling her down and under, sentencing her to that same fate, and she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine. For a second she wondered just how many of the bodies deep under the water were there because of her, how many of the witches and wizards she had captured herself had ended up there. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to push the thought away. It wouldn't do her any good to linger on those thoughts, and she knew every single person she had captured deserved whatever they got. They didn't deserve her pity, or even a spare thought.

Warm fingers touched her hand, threaded between hers, and she felt her body relax just slightly. "We're almost there," Caleb said, feeling her unease, and she almost managed to smile as she slid further away from the edge of the boat and closer to him. She slid her arm around him, rested her head on his shoulder and let his closeness calm her. She felt his fingers pushing a few locks of hair back as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, his strong arms holding her to him. He was the only person who knew what Dementors made her feel, what images clouded her mind when they were close. He was the only one who understood how badly they hurt her, how terribly they scared her.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw a large, dark shape through the thick fog, and she knew it would only be a few more minutes until they reached the island. She wished she had more time.

"Perhaps we should've contacted the Order before coming here, after all," she said, more in an attempt to distract herself and keep the memories at bay than because she believed it.

"There's nothing they can do for us now that we can't do ourselves. There's no point in getting them involved until we have more information. Not to mention the fact that arranging an Order meeting would take at least a day, even in the case of an emergency."

"I know, it's just that…" she shook her head and sighed.

"We can contact them when we get back, if you want," Caleb said. She was about to answer when their boat hit something solid, and almost turned over.

With a barely contained curse, she tightened her arms around him, trying her best to keep her balance.

"We're here," he said, reaching for his wand and moving the boat closer to the small pier, securing it there before helping her to the platform.

The fog seemed thicker there than it had on the water, and the sense of unease had almost turned into despair now, but she had been expecting it. She had been in that place enough times to know the effect it had on her.

"I wished you'd listened to me and stayed in London," Caleb said, his eyes full of concern as he looked at her.

"I couldn't stay behind. Those messages were sent to me for a reason and I'll-"

"I'm sure that whatever it is they want, they can say it to me."

"I'm not going back, Caleb," she said, knowing where he was heading.

"I know the effect this place has on you, I know what those creatures do to you. There's no need for you to-"

"I'm not a child any more," she snapped, yanking her hand away from his. "They won't affect me the way they once did. I don't need you to protect me." Without another word, she started walking down the platform, hurrying her step as she reached the stone path that led to the only entrance to the building.

He didn't say anything else, he didn't even get angry at her attitude. He simply started walking after her, hurrying his step enough so he could reach her and walk beside her. He was worried about her, she knew that; he was just trying to protect her from the pain they both knew would soon come, no matter how ready to face it she thought she was. But she couldn't let him do that, she couldn't let him shield her from this, hide her from it. She had to be strong. She was not that heartbroken child that had walked into that place for the first time almost four years ago. She was strong now, and she wouldn't break down, not again.

After a few moments he reached for her hand again, and she let him, tightening her fingers around his as she walked in silence, readying herself for whatever would happen there. At least now she was not alone. Caleb was with her. He understood.

A man was waiting for them at the end of the path, his wand casting just enough light to let them see him in the middle of the night. Only when they reached him did she let go of Caleb's hand, instantly missing the confidence, the sense of safety such small contact made her feel.

"Minister, Miss Granger," the man greeted when they reached him. "My name is Samuel Redstone, I'm in charge of the prison."

"Thank you for meeting us here, Mr Redstone," Caleb said, shaking the man's hand. "I'm very sorry you had to come at this hour."

"I'm sure it's something important that brought you here, Minister. I wanted to be here to assist you in any way that I can."

"I appreciate it. Is the prisoner ready to meet us?"

"We had him transferred to the Visitors Area as soon as you contacted us, Minister," Redstone said as he started walking the few steps that separated them from the large iron gates.

They followed the man into a large room, and then down a cold stone hallway. There were cells on both sides of the hall, and the echoes their footsteps caused were enough to wake the prisoners behind the doors. Soon the silence was replaced with screams, cries for help, curses and threats. Redstone apologized for it as he hurried his step, but the sounds barely registered in Hermione's mind. She was working too hard on blocking every thought, getting ready for what she knew she would find just a few rooms ahead.

She could feel them in her chest, in the pit of her stomach, could feel their presence inside her head, trying to slip past her defences to take what they needed from her, and leave the pain behind.

Caleb slowed down his step, keeping his voice low enough so that Redstone wouldn't hear when he asked if she was all right. She took a deep breath and nodded, not even looking at him as she continued walking.

"This way, please," Redstone said when they reached the end of the hallway, holding a heavy-looking iron door open for them. "The prisoner is in that room," he said, and she didn't even bother turning around to see where he was pointing. She had to focus, had to clear her mind. "We brought him here after you…"

Redstone's voice faded away, although she was almost sure he was still talking. The room around her seemed to go even darker, the air so cold it made her chest ache with every breath she took. She blinked a few times, keeping her gaze on the empty wall, refusing to look at the figures slowly sliding closer to them. Then the screaming started.

She saw _him_ again. She saw the fear on his face when they realised what was happening, soon replaced with determination as he ran to help his friends. It all seemed so different when she knew what the outcome would be. She knew that his eyes on her, his voice yelling at his friend to keep her safe was the last thing she would ever see and hear of him.

Bright rays of light filled the room around her as the figures floated closer, and although she had tried to ready herself for it, although she knew it was all in her mind, she couldn't stop the flashes of memories the Dementors forced out. The rays of light were curses hitting her friends, hurting them, killing them as they tried to defend themselves, waiting for a rescue that wouldn't come in time. The voices were deafening pleas for help, cries of pain, the names of their loved ones being shouted in fear some times, in despair others.

Then a hand took hers, and the world focused around her. That warm hand pulled her out of those memories, its firm touch reminded her she was safe, that all she had seen was past, that it was only the Dementors playing with her mind.

"Mr Redstone," Caleb said, his voice helping to silence the screams in her head, "It probably sounds silly, but would you mind sending the Dementors somewhere else? I'm sure there will be no danger, and I have to admit I don't much enjoy their presence," he lied, using that charming tone, probably with a charming smile to match, that always got people to agree with him.

"Of course," the wizard was quick to reply, motioning for the Dementors to leave the room. She noticed their hesitation, knew they wanted to stay there, to continue to drain her energy, but after a few seconds they started to glide into another room. As the door closed behind them the memories vanished, although the pain they left did not. But she could breathe now, and her hands had almost stopped shaking. One quick look around told her that the three of them were alone in the room, and that Redstone hadn't noticed anything strange in her. She had to be thankful for the little things, at least.

Squeezing her hand slightly, Caleb muttered a "Thank you," as he smiled at the wizard.

"Not at all. To be quite honest, I do not enjoy being near them, either. I have worked here for many years now, but I can never quite get used to what they make me feel," Redstone said, and she noticed a small shiver shake his shoulders. "Well, I'm sure you would like to talk to the prisoner now," he said quickly, and it was obvious he was eager to change the subject. "We have two guards with him now; I assume you will not want the Dementors back in the room while you speak to him?"

"No. In fact, we need to speak to him in private. Just the three of us, if that is possible."

"Well, Minister, I'm afraid it would go against the rules to leave you with such a dangerous wizard unguarded," Redstone said, sounding nervous. "The procedure is quite clear on the subject. In fact, Statute Fifteen B states that no visitors shall be left alone with a prisoner. If you had accepted to hold the meeting tomorrow morning, there would be more guards here, but I'm afraid at this hour we have less personnel on the island."

"I understand," Caleb said, letting go of her hand to turn fully to the wizard, "but this is a matter of the utmost importance, as you can imagine by our being here so late, and it is imperative that Miss Granger and I talk to the prisoner in private."

"Well, you see, Minister," Redstone said, clearly trying not to squirm nervously. "I cannot ignore-"

"I would greatly appreciate it, Mr Redstone, if you would forgo those rules for tonight and let us talk to the prisoner," Caleb insisted, his smile tensing a little as he began to lose his patience.

"I…Of course, Minister, of course," Redstone finally gave in, and although still looking nervous and slightly pale, he walked to a door to their right, opened it, and asked the guards inside to leave. "We will be waiting right here, Minister, if there is any kind of trouble."

"There won't be," Caleb assured him, as they both walked through the door and into a much smaller room. "Thank you for your understanding."

"How thoughtful of you to come see me," a cold voice drawled from behind her as soon as the door was closed. "I'm afraid I do not get many visits here."

It was too dark to see who had spoken, but she didn't need to see him to recognize the man. In fact, even if she hadn't already known who they would be meeting, his voice alone would have given him away.

"This is hardly a social visit, Malfoy," Caleb said, lighting the room with a quick flick of his wand.

"Oh, but it is a visit, nonetheless, Minister. I must admit, Miss Granger, I did not expect you to come so well accompanied."

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the cold wall, wanting to be as far away from Lucius Malfoy as the room would allow. He didn't look like the man she had once known, his clothes were ragged, his hair unclean and tangled, his face paler than a ghost and dirty, but the coldness in his eyes as he looked at her was the same. The arrogance in his expression hadn't changed one bit, not even after years in Azkaban. Imprisoned, chained to a chair, and unarmed, he still looked at her as if he was better than her, still managed to put a threat in his gaze that made her hesitate, if only for a second. But he didn't scare her, he never had.

"You know why we're here, don't you, Malfoy?" she asked, keeping her voice as cold as she could.

He smirked at her before speaking. "Those are hardly manners befitting a lady, Miss Granger. I am aware of the fact that you were raised by Muggles, there's only so much one can expect, but such behaviour is simply appalling."

"What makes you think I care what your opinion of me is?" she asked, and was surprised to hear the calmness in her voice. He seemed to be surprised, as well, his lips twitching into a small smile before the arrogant smirk was back.

"Straight to business it shall be, then," he said, leaning back in his chair as best he could. "Please, do take a seat. I realise this is not as accommodating as my former residence, but it will have to do for the time being."

"Would you mind telling us why we are here?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question, Minister. It is you that came here, how am I to know the reason why?"

"No games, Malfoy."

"You take away the only entertainment I have left," the wizard said with a sigh. "If we are to talk about what brought Miss Granger here, then I believe that is a conversation the two of us should maintain in private."

"No," Caleb said, as calm as ever, but there was a firmness in his voice that made it clear he was serious.

"Why, Miss Granger, I had heard rumours about your tendency to get close to wizards with power, and understand Potter wasn't quite enough," Lucius drawled, a smirk twitching his lips as he looked from her to Caleb, "but to have the Minister for Magic at your beck and call? That is quite impressive."

He was expecting her to snap at him, she could see that in his eyes. He wanted a reason to belittle her, to control her, and she wouldn't give one to him.

"I assume you know about the memories I have been sent," she said instead, and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he looked at her.

"Oh, yes, some quite impressive images, I believe."

"Who sent them?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, child. You have both seen those memories?" he asked, and she nodded. He didn't even glance at Caleb to see his response. "So you know by now that we have prisoners. Order members, friends of yours, I'm sure."

"Who is _we_?"

"Tut tut, Miss Granger, you cannot honestly expect me to answer that question. Let us focus on what is important here."

"And what is that?"

"We have something you want. You have something we want. I think our intentions are fairly obvious, child."

"All we know is that you have taken prisoners over the years. That doesn't mean they are still alive."

"Do not think just because I'm trapped in this place you can fool me. I know exactly what you saw."

The images in the memories hadn't been as brutal as the ones in the first phial, but that hadn't changed the effect they'd had on her. The prisoners, the Order members, were not being tortured in the new ones, although she could see they were in bad shape, and the people those memories belonged to had left copies of the Daily Prophet lying close by in every one of them, wanting to make sure she would see the date. All the memories had been from within the last two weeks.

"Whoever sent me those phials could have easily contacted me, instead of sending me here find to you. You said it yourself, you are trapped in Azkaban, what use could you be to anyone outside? Just tell whoever sent those memories to me that if they want to negotiate, they can come by themselves. Better yet, give me their names, I'll make sure to find them."

His laughter surprised her. It wasn't cold or deprecating, it was surprised, honest. "I have heard much about you over the years, Miss Granger, so many praises to your intelligence. Do you honestly not know why I'm the one you were told to contact?" he asked, and she merely raised an eyebrow in question, not even bothering to reply. "Why, I was the only one that could make contact with you without risk, child. I am…safe from the Order of the Phoenix while within these walls. Isn't that ironic? The place designed to imprison me is actually keeping me safe."

"What makes you think you are safe here?" Caleb asked, the first words he had spoken since the conversation had started.

"Now, Minister, let us leave empty threats for another time," Malfoy replied, ever so pleasantly.

"You said we have something you want. What is it?"

"Prisoners, of course."

"You cannot be serious."

"On the contrary, Minister, I'm very serious. We have war prisoners, and so do the Ministry and the Order. We are merely offering to exchange them."

Before Caleb could say anything, she asked the one question that had been on her mind since the moment she had seen the first memory at St Mungo's "Who do you have?"

Lucius Malfoy's lips twitched into an unpleasant smirk, the one she was more used to seeing on his face, as he leaned back on the chair. "I'm sure you recognized some of the faces in the last set of memories, but I assure you, we have more prisoners than the ones you saw. I'm afraid there is only one way for you to find out exactly who we have, Miss Granger, and that is by agreeing to this exchange."

"And what would be the terms of that exchange?"

"They are quite simple," Malfoy replied. "We give you our prisoners, and you give us all the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban…and Potter."


	6. Chapter 6

_February 17__th__, 2000_

Hermione sat at the very back of the room, in the last row of chairs, almost against the wall. Ron and Harry were sitting to her left, talking animatedly. About what, she had no idea. Remus and Tonks were sitting on her other side. They had tried to pull her into the conversation a few times, but had finally desisted. She was too lost in her own nervous thoughts to follow any kind of conversation. In fact, it was taking all she had to just sit still and not fidget or wiggle her hands together, but keep them on her lap. Stopping herself from nibbling anxiously on her lower lip was simply beyond what she was capable of.

As she waited in silence, she wondered why she was so very nervous. She was usually in control of her emotions, and there was really no reason for her to feel that way, she was just… No, who was she trying to fool? She knew exactly why she felt as if her body was trying to crawl out of her skin, why her heart was all but hammering in her chest, why she felt that fluttering inside her stomach. She knew now why she felt that way. Just like, deep down, she had known it for the past two days, no matter how hard she tried to fool herself, to ignore the facts. She hadn't had a moment's peace since she heard there would soon be an Order meeting and that the Aurors had finally returned from their mission.

Kingsley. That was the reason behind her feelings.

Just thinking of his name sent shivers down her skin, but she couldn't quite decide if it was a good feeling, or a bad one.

She hadn't seen him in almost a month, not since the night when they'd gone on that mission together, not since they'd…

As if summoned by her very thoughts, the door to the drawing room opened, and five Aurors marched inside, sitting on the first row of seats without a glance around. A second later Kingsley walked in, going straight to where Dumbledore was sitting. The Auror stopped by the chair and leaned down to say something, his voice so low she didn't think anyone else in the room would be able to hear.

She watched, as silent as everyone else in the room, as Kingsley spoke to Dumbledore, saw the old wizard nod a few times, then say something in return. Kingsley frowned, shook his head, and spoke again. A few moments later, Dumbledore nodded and stood up. Every head in the room turned to follow Dumbledore's movements as he walked to the front of the room, but she only had eyes for Kingsley.

Hermione watched him as he stood tall again, her breath catching in her throat as she waited for him to turn around towards the room, wondering what would happen, what he would do when he saw her. But he did nothing, he looked at no one; he merely sat on the chair Dumbledore had just vacated and turned to watch the old wizard, like everyone else had.

She couldn't help feeling a little disappointed, but she wasn't sure exactly why. What had she expected Kingsley to do? She honestly had no idea. Part of her had hoped he would say something, or at least acknowledge her, and another part feared he would do just that. Why did things always get so complicated? She had spent countless hours with Kingsley over the last few months as he trained her, and she had gotten to know him well enough that she had felt comfortable in thinking of him as a friend. A friend she had been attracted to, yes, but then again, who wouldn't be attracted to a man like him?

But it hadn't been his deep voice, or the strength of his arms, or his tall, muscled figure, or his broad back that had attracted her most. He was smart, and brave, and he always made her laugh. He had taught her so much about magic, shared so much with her about the truth of battles, about life. She had valued him as a friend, someone she trusted implicitly, and now she was afraid all that would be lost. It had been a foolish mistake; they had been overtaken by the adrenaline after the fight with the Death Eaters, so much tension in them needing a release. They had just acted on an impulse, _she_ had acted on an impulse, and now she didn't know what that would do to their friendship, and there was little she hated more than not knowing something.

As her mind went over all the possible ways this could end badly, all the things that could go wrong whether they decided to go back to how things had been, or accept the changes in their relationship, Dumbledore told the rest of the Order the details of what she and Kingsley had found out about the Death Eaters that night, and explained the basics of the mission he had sent Kingsley and his team on afterwards.

When the wizard finished his explanation, Kingsley stood up again and walked to stand next to him. With a smile he whispered something to Dumbledore, before turning to the rest of the room, his voice loud now as he went over the events of the last three weeks for the rest of the Order members. He looked at everyone in the room as he gave his report, and eventually his eyes met hers.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, but not enough for anyone else to notice, or so she hoped. In fact, that slightly lingering stare and small hesitation in his speech when their eyes met were the only signs of acknowledgement he gave. She was almost sure no one else would notice, or think anything of it, they were good friends, after all, but she could feel the weight, the heat of his stare on her skin, as if it were something physical, and she found herself squirming in her seat before finally looking away. Another second of him watching her in that way and she knew she'd start blushing furiously. That was something her friends probably would notice.

By the time she gathered the courage to look up again, his gaze was once more moving across the room, but the corners of his lips were lifted in the ghost of a smirk that she knew hadn't been there before.

He continued talking as if nothing had happened, and she continued to pretend she was listening, but how could she pay attention to his words when the sound of his voice alone was enough to make her shiver, when she could think of nothing but the way his chest had vibrated against her body that night with every word he spoke? Memories of their time together rushed to her mind, more vivid than ever before, to the point that she could almost feel his touch against her skin.

For weeks now, she had been going through what had come to pass that night, but always under a different, more clinical light. She had thought back on those 'events' trying to understand what had happened, how they'd gone from the rush of the battle to something so primal, so passionate between them. She had been on missions many times before with other witches and wizards, had come close to getting caught, or killed, but it had never led to anything even close to what she and Kingsley had done. The rush, the excitement, had never become something sensual. Sexual. Not until Kingsley.

She had to admit she hadn't been attracted to the others, though. Well, perhaps Ron, for a time, but it had been more of an almost platonic romantic interest than something physical, even though it had gotten physical a few times. Not things she cared to remember, though. But still, she wasn't even sure she was really attracted to Kingsley in that way, was she? Yes, he was tall, and handsome, and strong, and she had spent more than a fair amount of time watching him move during training sessions with a grace she wouldn't have thought possible for someone his size, watched his muscles flex and relax as he moved, watched that amazing smile form on his face whenever one of his curses hit its target, or when she aced something he had just taught her, and those little wrinkles appear by his eyes when he laughed or was really happy.

All right, who was she trying to fool? She had been, _was_, attracted to Kingsley, but she had never given it much thought, not until that night.

And then, before they'd even had a chance to feel that mandatory awkwardness around each other after what had happened, before they even had time to talk about it, he'd had to leave.

"We'll talk soon," was all he'd managed to say as the Order made preparations to send him and a team of Aurors after the Death Eaters they'd found, and barely a few hours after he'd kissed her, he'd been gone. Until now.

So really, it was only normal that she felt nervous. She'd had sex with a good friend, someone she trusted and cared about, and she still had no idea how that would change their relationship.

Apparently, she had been mulling over it all for too long, because when movement next to her brought her mind back to the present she realised the meeting was over, and everyone there was already getting up and making their way out of the room. She had no idea what the outcome of the mission had been, but it couldn't have been bad; they were all back at headquarters and safe, after all.

She hesitated for a moment as she got up, wondering if she should sneak out of the room and act as if nothing was different, or be brave and go over to where Kingsley was standing and discuss it. She chanced a glance in his direction and saw he was once again talking to Dumbledore. With a small sigh of relief she decided he had made that choice for her; he was busy, she'd have to go with Harry and Ron. She could always talk to him later on, if things between them seemed tense or awkward. But then, just as she made up her mind, just when she was a step away from the doorway, he called her name.

"Hermione, could you wait a moment, please?"

She stopped walking and turned around, doing her best to keep her expression blank and the nervousness at bay as she spoke. "Actually, we were just-"

"It'll only be a moment," he insisted with his usual smile before she could finish making up an excuse, then turning to Dumbledore again. She looked at Ron and Harry, hoping they would help her get away, but they simply shrugged and continued on their way to the kitchen, leaving her to wait for Kingsley.

She tried to use the little time she had to sort out her ideas, now that it was clear he wanted to talk. She needed to decide what she would say, how she would act, but it wasn't an easy thing to do, not when part of her wanted to forget anything had ever happened, to preserve their friendship, while the other part yearned so desperately for his touch.

After a few minutes of making a mental list of all the good and bad things that could come with each choice, relying on her logic to sort out her problems, Dumbledore's, "Goodbye," brought her back to reality, to Kingsley slowly making his way closer to her. She managed to mutter a goodbye of her own in return, and waited until she heard the door close before looking at the man now standing in front of her.

"Hi," he said, his smile as hesitant as hers for a moment, before that aura of self confidence surrounded him again. "So, how've things been around here lately?" he asked, and she almost sighed in relief at the easy topic he had chosen.

"Just meetings and more meetings," she said with a small shrug, a part of her hoping the fact that he had chosen such a simple and normal question meant he also wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. Because that's what she wanted, wasn't it? "Seems it's everything we do here, as of late."

"And how've you been?"

"I…" She hesitated for a second, then decided to follow his lead and continue as if it were just another simple question, taking it as she would have if the conversation had taken place a month before then. "I've spent most of my time training, actually. Moody's taught me a few very interesting curses I can't wait to try out for real."

"That's not what I-" he started, then took a deep breath. "I think we need to talk," he said. Then added, "About what happened that night," as if he needed to make his meaning clear.

She forced her lips into a nonchalant smile as she said, "There's nothing to talk about, we were both…" she hesitated, searching for the right words, "We were high on adrenaline after the fight, and things simply got out of hand. You don't have to worry about-"

He took a step closer to her then, a small step, but enough to cause a reaction in her she hadn't expected. The words she was trying to say died on her lips as she looked up into his eyes, her heart beating faster and faster at just having him so close. He tilted his head to the side, his expression thoughtful as he watched her with an intensity that made her breath catch. She knew he was analyzing her response to his actions, knew he was aware of the effect his closeness seemed to have on her, but there was nothing she could do to control it.

"Perhaps you're right," he said, his voice dropping an octave, making her shiver slightly. "Perhaps things did get out of hand, but I don't think it was just the rush of the battle that caused it."

She opened her mouth to speak, licked her suddenly dry lips, then tried again. "I don't think…" she started, but just then he leaned forward, his lips just a breath away from hers, and words were suddenly forgotten.

His lips twitched in a smile at her reaction, and he whispered, "Yes?"

It took her a few moments to understand what he meant, to remember they were actually in the middle of a conversation, that she had been trying to say something. Finally, she managed to whisper, "I don't think this is a good idea."

He took another step forward, forcing her to move back to keep the distance between them. "What isn't?" he asked in that same low voice, his lips still oh so close. But she couldn't bring herself to tilt her head back. It was taking all she had just not to lean forward.

Why did he keep asking her questions while standing so very close to her? Didn't he realise she could barely think with him there? Just then his smile broadened.

Oh, no, he knew. That smug smile on those full, oh so kissable lips of his made it clear he was fully aware of the effect he had on her.

"What happened that night was…" she started again. "We'd just gotten away from the Death Eaters, and…" He took another step forward, she took another step back. He was standing so close to her that she could feel the heat of his skin, even though they were still not touching. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on what she was saying and not on the desire to run her hands down his firm chest again, feel his muscles tense under her touch as they…

"The adrenaline?" he said, a hint of amusement now in his tone.

She tried to reply, but her lips were again too dry, and her throat seemed to refuse to let through any sound more complex than a moan. She didn't think that was the smartest sound to make when she was trying to reason with him. She licked her lips, opened her mouth, and then settled for a short nod.

"Is that why you think it happened?" he asked, and she nodded again, a little too fast. "I see."

He was silent for a few seconds, but she could still hear him breathing inches away from her, so she knew he hadn't moved. A second later she felt his breath warm against her neck, and she closed her eyes even tighter, balled her hands into fists and willed her body still when all she wanted was to reach out to him.

"Perhaps you're right," he said, his voice making her breath catch. "But still…" he whispered, taking one last step forward, this time pushing her back not with hands but with his body, until she was trapped between him and the wall. "We haven't just returned from a fight." She felt his breath against the corner of her mouth now, and she could barely stop a whimper from slipping through her lips. "There's no adrenaline pumping in our veins." Her eyes opened of their own free will, and her gaze shot to his mouth just as his tongue darted out, slowly licking his lips. "And still," he whispered with a wicked smile, tilting his head closer, "you're dying for me to kiss you, aren't you?"

His lips were on hers the next second, his kiss hungry and passionate, and this time she did whimper as she gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him for all she was worth.

Somewhere in her mind she knew she should pull back, knew she should break the kiss and explain to him all the reasons why what had happened that night should never happen again, but there was something in his touch that seemed to shut that part of her brain down. She couldn't think with him so close, not when his tongue was moving around hers in that wicked way, not when his teeth were nibbling on her lower lip, not when he was kissing her neck, then biting, and certainly not when his hands were on her hips, pulling her flush against him and letting her feel just how hard he was for her.

One of his hands moved to her hair, yanking her head back hard enough to make her cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain as he forced her to tilt her head and meet his gaze while his hips moved against hers. His breathing was hard, and his eyes were burning with desire, and that was what her world had been reduced to. Kingsley. His body. His touch. Her need for it all.

He kissed her again as he slipped one of his legs between hers, moving his thigh against her core and providing the friction that she so desperately needed as he kept rocking against her, his hand slipping under her shirt to reach for her breast, squeezing lightly, then teasing her nipple, caressing, twisting, the mixture of soft and rough touches pushing her closer to the edge.

She moaned his name as her body arched into him, her hips now moving against his thigh as her arm snaked between them, fumbling slightly as she undid his trousers. Then she slipped her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around him as she moved her hand up and down firmly, her other arm moving to his neck, pulling him closer when he broke the kiss, needing to feels his lips against hers, needing to touch as much of him as she could.

Then he tensed against her and he was coming, his hips jerking faster, the change in rhythm enough to push her over the edge, and she found herself biting Kingsley's shoulder through his robes to stop the scream the orgasm ripped from her throat.

"Fuck," he almost growled, resting his forehead on the wall as he tried to control his breathing, his hips still moving slowly against her hand. She closed her eyes again as she leaned forward against him, pressing her head against his chest, hearing his heartbeats gradually slow down.

"They're going to be wondering what's taking us so long," Kingsley said after what felt like hours.

"Probably," she managed to reply through dry lips as she pulled her hand out of his pants.

She felt his fingers on her chin as he tilted her head up so he could see her face. He was silent for a few seconds as he watched her, studying her face like he had many times before, trying to guess what she was thinking. Finally, he leaned forward and kissed her. "Next time," he said as he nibbled on her lip, "I'm taking my time with you." His tone made it sound half a threat and half a promise, and she shivered at the wicked thoughts that came with his words as she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him again. His hand moved from her jaw, down her arm, and then away, and a few seconds later she felt the tingling on her skin from what she knew was a cleaning charm. Without another word, Kingsley stepped away from her, smiled that sexy smile that made her tingle, and reached for the door.

There were still things they had to talk about, decisions they had to make. She knew where she stood; she didn't want a relationship, not when they were trying to live through a war, not when there were other things she had to focus on, and she was sure Kingsley understood that. But still she wanted him so badly it was hard to think of anything else with him near.

"Shall we?" Kingsley asked, his voice instantly catching her attention and pushing all those thoughts away. With a deep breath she nodded and hastily pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, doing her best to straighten her clothes before stepping out of the room.

It was difficult to worry about the future with her breathing still slightly ragged and her muscles weak from the orgasm he had given her. She might regret what had just happened by tomorrow, or perhaps even before then, but for now she'd just stop worrying. She'd allow herself to feel good, even if it was only for a little while.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione Apparated to number twelve, Grimmauld Place alone. The plan had been for her and Caleb to go together, but she had received an owl from him a few minutes earlier telling her he would be late, and that he would meet her there.

She hesitated by the doorway, hating the idea of going inside on her own. She hadn't seen most of the people she knew would be there in years, and she wasn't looking forward to meeting most of them again.

With a deep breath she steeled herself and lifted her arm, knocking on the door before she had time to change her mind again. What was she so worried about, after all? She was a Gryffindor, she wouldn't be afraid of seeing her old friends again.

A few seconds passed, and she knocked on the door a little harder. They probably hadn't heard her the first time. She pushed her hands into her pockets to stop herself from fidgeting as she waited. She would just go in, tell them what had happened, and then leave as soon as possible. That was the plan; that was a good plan. She just wished Caleb was there by her side while she told the Order of the Phoenix, or what was left of it, about the memories she had been sent.

The tapping of her foot against the cement marked the seconds as she waited, and just as she slipped her hand out of her pocket to knock a third time the door swung open, and her eyes met Harry. She stood frozen in place as she tried to decide what to say or do, and noticed his smile falter when he saw her, but then he quickly schooled his expression. There was no hiding the coldness in his eyes, though.

"Hermione."

"Hello."

"You're late," Harry said, then stepped aside to let her in before closing the door without another word.

This was the first time she had seen Harry in almost three years, unless she counted that one time she'd seen him at one of the Ministry's parties, but then he had just nodded in acknowledgement when their eyes had met across the room and continued on with his conversation.

Not wanting to wait for Harry to guide her inside and risk more awkward or brusque moments than were necessary, she followed the sounds of voices down the hallway, noticing Mrs. Black's portrait had finally been removed from the wall, and then stepped into the drawing room.

"Hermione!" she heard someone call from inside the room, and a second later all conversation seemed to stop as most of the people in the room turned to her. She forced a small smile to her lips as she wondered what would happen now, and was glad when some of the people quickly stepped forward to greet her with broad smiles and open arms. It was nice to know some of them still liked her.

She smiled a little more as she talked to former Hogwarts teachers and classmates, and people she had gotten to know quite well during the war. They asked questions about her, and she tried her best to avoid answering without outright lying, asking about them in turn to move the conversation to more comfortable topics. If they didn't already know why they rarely got to see her any more, she wasn't about to explain it.

Her gaze travelled around the room as she exchanged polite comments with one person or another, and soon her eyes met Harry's across the room. He was sitting in a far corner, talking to Ron, and they both looked away when they saw her watching them.

Right after the end of the war, when things had gotten really bad between her and Harry, Ron had quickly sided with him. She shouldn't have been surprised, he had done that more than enough times during their years at Hogwarts, but still it had hurt to lose her two best friends after everything else she'd lost. But they hadn't understood, Harry hadn't understood, and perhaps pushing her away had been his way of dealing with everything that had happened.

Harry had simply forced her out of his life, and she had let him, because seeing him and Ron and everyone else reminded her of everything she had lost, and it broke her heart all over again, every single time. Yet now she was here again, with what was left of the once powerful Order of the Phoenix, ready to bring those painful memories back to every one of them.

"Now don't you look smashing," someone said from behind her, taking her hand and twirling her around to face a pair of identical smirks.

"Hi boys," she said, with a small smile, knowing them making her turn around had been no accident; they had obviously seen her watching Ron and Harry and had decided to interfere.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Mione," George said.

"Haven't stopped by the shop in ages," Fred added.

She tried for her best stubborn look as she frowned at them, "First, don't call me that, my name is Hermione," she said, only making their smiles broaden, "and second, I was there less than a month ago, if I remember correctly."

"Which constitutes a long time," said Fred. "We've been trying to contact you for a few days now."

"We'd decided to simply show up at your apartment when we heard about the meeting, and that you'd be here.

"Why were you trying to contact me?"

The looks of innocence they were trying to pull off made her frown even more. "Now don't look so suspicious," George quickly said. "We just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"And maybe hire your services as well," Fred added, when she arched her eyebrow in disbelief.

"Hire my services?" she repeated, taking a quick look around to check no one was paying attention to them and then casting a quick Muffliato Charm just to be sure. "I will not get any more illegal objects or potions ingredients for the two of you. Whatever you make with them, you cannot sell it, and if someone finds out you will both end up in Azkaban."

"Cannot sell, she says," George said, turning to his twin.

"Must be daft, poor girl."

"Must be," George replied, casting her a sad look. "Last product we created using your ingredients sold out a day before we began advertising it."

"You advertised a product that used Chimaera eggs?"

Fred laughed at her shocked expression as George said, "We weren't about to put it on the Daily Prophet, Hermione, we advertise that sort of product only to some of our most select clientele."

"Whom we believe will be extremely interested in our newest idea for a product."

"I think I'm afraid to ask."

Leaning forward, George whispered into her ear, "We need Manticores. Three or four of them."

"Manticores? What could you possibly want with Manticores?"

"Why, quite a few things, in fact," Fred said. "Which we are more than willing to share with you, but perhaps in a more private location."

"Can you get them for us?"

"I…of course I can get them, I'm simply not sure I should."

"Now, Mione," George said, hugging her closer with one arm, "there's no need to worry. We know what we're doing."

"That is precisely my concern," she said, watching them smile and shake their heads.

"So, when can we have them?"

"I didn't say I'd get them," she said, but they just smiled at that. Shaking her head she sighed and said, "It will be tricky, Manticores are hard to find, and even harder to smuggle into the country. It's going to take a little longer than the eggs."

"How long?"

"I don't know," she said, mentally going through the list of contacts that could be useful. "I can probably have them in two days, three at most."

"Knew we could count on you," George said, kissing her forehead.

"Might want to let go now, brother dear, her knight's on his way," Fred said with a smirk, and she followed his gaze to the door, where Caleb was standing. She quickly looked back at Fred with a glare, but he just winked at her and whispered, "Worry not, Mione, it'll be our little secret," before pulling his brother after him.

Caleb was already making his way towards her, his usual smile on his lips as he was greeted by the Order members he walked by. "Sorry I couldn't make it any sooner, last minute meeting with the…What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"What's going on?" he asked again, and she forced herself to turn away from the twins and look up at him.

"Fred and George know."

"Know what?" he asked, frowning as he followed her gaze. "Oh," he muttered, when Fred looked back at them and wiggled his eyebrows. "How did they-"

"I don't know," she said with a sigh.

Looking around the room, he asked, "Do you think they've told anyone else?"

"I don't think so. They told me they wouldn't say anything."

"Well, it took them years to figure it out; they're not as smart as they think. Want me to talk to them, make sure they'll keep it to themselves? I could probably threaten them with something scary," he said, but she could tell from the teasing tone of his voice that he wasn't in the least worried. It was only because of her own wishes that their relationship was kept a secret, after all.

Unable to hold back a small smile she asked, "You think they're more afraid of you than they are of me?"

"You're right; you're far scarier than the Minister for Magic."

"Of course, I am," she said, grinning, then grew serious again as she turned to him. "I'm glad you're here."

"I know this is hard for you, and I wanted to come with you, but I got called at the last minute and-"

"It's all right," she whispered. "You're here now."

She wanted to reach for him, to hug him and feel his arms around her, making her forget her worries for a little while, making her feel safe, but she knew she couldn't, not in public. He was the Minister for Magic and she…well, she was more than just a war heroine.

"Miss Granger," someone's voice distracted her, and she turned around to see McGonagall. "I believe everyone is here now."

It took her a moment to realise what she meant, and then she turned to Caleb, silently wishing for a way out she knew she wouldn't take if offered. She had to do this; they had a right to know. She just wished it didn't have to be her explaining it all.

"All right, let's do this," she whispered to herself as McGonagall asked everyone to sit down.

It took a few minutes to get everyone settled, and she and Caleb slowly made their way to the front of the room, as the last whispers died away.

"Are you sure you want to tell them yourself?" Caleb asked from beside her, his voice low enough that she was sure no one else would hear him.

With a weak smile and a small nod, she turned to face the Order of the Phoenix again. "Well, I..." she started nervously, after a few seconds of silence, her gaze travelling around the room, noticing every single person in there was looking at her expectantly. With a deep breath, she forced herself to speak. "I think it will be best if I go straight to the heart of the matter," she finally said, speaking fast, needing to get it all out so it would be over sooner. "The reason we organised this meeting is because I have been contacted by a group of former Death Eaters."

"Impossible," someone whispered from the small crowd. "It can't be true," someone else said. Every comment and whisper seemed to circle over the same line of thought, and they hadn't even heard the important part yet.

"A message was sent to me two days ago," she continued, the hushed whispered quickly dying away, "and was asked to contact one of the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban."

"I thought almost every Death Eater was there by now," someone said from the back of the room.

"So did we all, but it would seem that's not the case."

"What did the message say?"

Taking another deep breath, she closed her eyes for a second, trying to push from her mind the memories of what she had seen in the Pensieve. "From what I gathered, both from the messages and the meeting with the Lucius Malfoy, the group of Death Eaters still at large have prisoners."

There were a few comments on finding out Lucius Malfoy was involved, but it was the thought of them having prisoners that seemed to have surprised them the most.

"Who?" Tonks asked from a chair nearby. Her voice was soft as she spoke, and Hermione could imagine what was going on through the witch's mind.

"I don't know," she replied, truthfully.

"Why would they contact you? And why now?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure. I think the reason they contacted me was simply to prove they could. I'm not easy to find. It'd probably be easier for them to contact you than me; I think they wanted to show they had the power, or the information, needed. As for the timing, I have no idea."

"What do they want? I'm sure there must be a reason behind all this."

"As I said before, the Minister and I went to see Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban. He seems to be acting as a liaison in this matter. He assured us the group has prisoners from the Order, witches and wizards captured ever since the beginning of the war."

"Death Eaters were never known for taking prisoners," one of the Aurors sitting in the front row said. "They always went for the kill. It's hard to imagine them keeping Order members alive for this many years. How do we know they are even telling the truth?"

"The first message they sent me contained memories of the witches and wizards being captured through the years," she said, trying hard to keep her voice neutral and only tell the Order what they needed to know. "The second message contained memories of them dated only a few weeks ago. They were still alive."

"Can we see those messages?" someone else asked, a voice she didn't recognise.

"I'm afraid that is impossible," Caleb said from beside her. "The memories were charmed to be destroyed after being viewed once," he lied. They had decided the rest of the Order didn't need to see the memories; they probably had enough nightmare-inducing memories of their own. "I only saw the second set of memories because Miss Granger was with me in my office when it was delivered."

"They were delivered to your office at the Ministry?"

He nodded and continued. "We spoke to Lucius Malfoy that night. He told us the prisoners were indeed alive, and that they intended to exchange them for the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban."

From the outraged and surprised murmurs that broke throughout the room she decided it had indeed been a good idea not to tell them the other term of the agreement; not unless it was necessary.

"They cannot be serious," Ron finally said, loud enough to quieten the other voices as everyone in the room turned back to her and Caleb.

"I'm afraid they are."

"Well, if they still have prisoners, then I'm sure we can find a way to track them down on our own."

"Unfortunately, we do not have enough time for that," Caleb said. "They gave us a deadline. We have until next Thursday to decide, exactly ten days from the moment the first message was delivered, and then all the prisoners will be killed."

"You cannot seriously consider freeing all the Death Eaters," yelled Anthony Goldstein, outraged.

"Not considering?!" came another voice. "It's our families we're talking about. After what they have probably been through…" the voice faltered for a few seconds. "We cannot just leave them on their own to be killed in Merlin knows what horrible manner without even considering it!"

"And many others have died to ensure those Death Eaters were sent to Azkaban, where they belong! Don't make it sound as if it's an easy choice because it's not!" Parvati said. Her sister had been one of the Order members killed while going after rogue Death Eaters.

"We're not considering anything yet," Hermione quickly replied, trying to appease them as best she could, considering the subject. "We are simply relaying the facts. We felt it was only fair that the Order knew what was happening before any decision was made."

"Does this have anything to do with what's been happening to Order members lately, Minister?"

Caleb turned to her for a second, as if not sure how much he should say. Hermione got on her tiptoes, trying to see who was talking before replying, "We don't know yet, Mister Diggle, but Malfoy said nothing to make us believe he could be involved."

"It can't be pure coincidence."

"Perhaps, but we cannot be certain of anything yet."

"We will have another meeting in two days, by which time we will discuss this more thoroughly," Caleb said. "All of us need some time to process this information before we can make any decision. Remember you are still bound by the laws of the Order. Everything said here can only be discussed with other fellow members."

She looked at the people sitting before them, seeing confusion, anger and sorrow cross their expressions as they tried to take in what she and Caleb had just told them. Most of them were standing again, small groups forming throughout the room as they spoke in hushed voices. She really wished they hadn't involved them in all this, but Caleb had been right, the decision concerned them, too.

"We should probably find somewhere more private to talk to Potter," Caleb said, waiting for her to nod in agreement before making his way to the back of the room.

She stayed a few steps behind as Caleb reached Harry and started talking to him. She noticed Harry's gaze dart to her for a moment, but he didn't say anything. After a few seconds, he nodded and walked out of the room, followed closely by the two of them.

"We can talk here," Harry said, as he stepped inside one of the small studies near the kitchen.

Trying to hide her discomfort, she stepped inside the room and turned to close the door when she noticed Ginny walking towards her. She waited until the witch reached her before saying, "We need to speak to Harry in private."

"She's my wife," Harry said coldly from behind her. "Whatever you need to tell me you can say it in front of her."

She glanced at Caleb, who nodded, and then stepped to the side, letting the witch through.

"Thank you," Ginny said with a small smile, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

"You're welcome."

"It's good to see you again," the witch whispered.

"Thanks. I read about the wedding in the papers last year, congratulations," she said as she walked closer to Caleb.

She saw Ginny blush slightly as she thanked her, and knew she felt guilty for not inviting her, but the truth was she had been glad they hadn't. Ginny hadn't sided with Harry the way Ron had after the war, but still they had grown apart with time due to her relationship with Harry, and by not inviting her to the wedding she had saved Hermione the trouble of coming up with an excuse not to go.

"So, what is it that you needed to tell me that you couldn't say out there?" Harry asked, reaching for Ginny's hand. She noticed he was trying to avoid looking at her, but she was past caring.

"It's about Malfoy's terms for the prisoners' exchange."

"What about them?"

"The Death Eaters are not all that his group wants."

"What else are they asking for?" Ginny said with a worried frown, as she leaned closer to Harry.

"They want Harry, too," Hermione said.

"What do you mean they want him?"

"Malfoy said they were willing to give us their prisoners if we gave them the Death Eaters in Azkaban and Potter," Caleb explained.

It took Ginny a moment to get over the shock. "What could they want with him?"

"We don't know."

"Well, this is ridiculous! They can't-"

Just then the door opened, and Ron peered inside. "Harry, mate, I've been looking all over for you," he said, clearly not noticing she and Caleb were in the room.

"Not now, Ronald," Ginny said. Harry hadn't even turned around to look at him. In fact, he hadn't moved at all since hearing the Death Eaters wanted him, too.

"What's going-" he started, but then his gaze went from Harry to her, and he frowned as he stepped inside. "What did you do to him?"

"Ronald!" Ginny gasped, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"Harry, mate, are you all right?" he asked, stepping closer to him. Harry turned to look at him now, but still didn't say anything. He seemed lost in thought, trying to make sense of what she and Caleb had just told him. "What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Hermione asked, feeling her anger rise. "Of course, if something is wrong then it must be my fault, right?"

"Save me the- "

"Can we please get back to the point?" Caleb interrupted briskly before Ron had time to say anything else. Perhaps he had noticed she was unconsciously inching her hand closer to her wand. "Those are the terms of the arrangement, Potter. We don't know why, but that is what Malfoy told us."

"I-" Harry said, then hesitated, and she saw him tighten his hold on Ginny's hand. He took a deep breath before speaking. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

She tried her best to keep her tone calm as she spoke again. "We know this isn't easy, and no one expects you to make any decision yet, but you had to know. You need to know what is at stake here."

"What's going on? What are you all talking about?" Ron asked, but everyone ignored him.

"Did he say anything else?" Harry asked.

"No," Caleb told him. "Malfoy refused to explain the demands any further. He said all we needed to know was what they wanted, and what would happen if we didn't agree to it."

"I won't play along, not unless I know what it is they're planning. I want to talk to him."

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," Caleb said. "We have to think of your security, now that we know the Death Eaters want you. They could just be waiting for an opportunity to attack you themselves."

"The Death Eaters what?" Ron said indignantly, but they continued to ignore him.

"I don't care; I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone looking after me. Can you arrange a meeting, Minister, or do I have to contact the prison myself?"

"This is not the time to be reckless, Potter."

"We will make the arrangements," Hermione said, knowing arguing would take them nowhere. It was obvious Harry had made up his mind, and she knew Caleb's tone. She had to stop this discussion before it escalated into a fight. Caleb turned to her, obviously not happy with her agreeing with Harry, but he didn't say anything.

"How long will that take?"

"I will contact the prison in the morning to schedule the visit."

"Very well," Harry said. "Is that all?" When they nodded, he said, "I'll contact you in the morning, then," and all but dragged Ginny out of the room with him.

She waited until the room was empty to reach for Caleb, and pull him closer, letting him tilt her head up and kiss her softly. It was over at last. They'd said what needed to be said, and now they could finally leave. They'd go get some dinner somewhere, and then to her place, or Caleb's for the night. It didn't matter where, really; she only wanted to get away from that place, away from the people she had once called friends.


	8. Chapter 8

_emMarch 12__th__, 2000/em_

"Hermione, there you are," Hodgins said, as she walked into the training room. "I wasn't sure you'd gotten the message about the change in schedule.

"I did," she said as she took off her robes and hung them by the wall.

"Been practicing the spells I taught you?" Hodgins asked, walking to the centre of the room. Instead of replying, she twirled her wand and suddenly a large block of concrete materialised in front of her.

"Is it solid?"

She smiled at his question, stepped to the side, and said, "Give it your best shot."

"Confident, are we?" he asked, then aimed his wand at the block and shot a quick series of spells at it. One caused a small explosion and sent some debris flying, but other than that, the block held. "Impressive," he finally said with a smile. "You're every bit as good as Kingsley said you were."

"So, are you going to teach me that spell now?" she asked. She'd been trying to get him to teach her the spell Kingsley had used on the Death Eaters outside the British Museum for almost a week now.

"No," he said, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. "It's our last training session together for now," he told her. "I thought I'd teach you something more...interesting."

"Such as?"

"Can you cast a Defendo Protective Shield?"

"Yes," she said.

"Go ahead," he said, and she muttered the words to the charm. "Now, you know this is one of the most powerful Shield Charms there are." She nodded. "Try not to fall," he said then with a smirk, and in a flash of movement he shot a spell that went right through her shield and hit her feet, forcing them together and making her fall hard on her arse. She was surprised to find he had cast a Cushioning Charm under her.

"How did you do that?" she asked as she lifted the spell keeping her feet together and got up.

"I knew you'd like it. And wait until I tell you the best part," he said, then leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "That's the Shield Charm Kingsley always uses."

Her eyes widened in understanding, and his smile broadened. "Thought it was about time you showed him some humility. Now come here, I'll show you how to cast it."

It took her only a few minutes to learn the spell, but almost an hour to make it powerful enough to break through the Protective Shield. Then Hodgins taught her a few more jinxes and a rather dark curse, and they spent the rest of the morning practicing them. It was no wonder he and Kingsley were such good friends, they were alike in so many aspects.

She was exhausted from hours of duelling, and it was obvious he was just as tired, so around lunchtime they decided to call it a day. She could tell he was happy he wouldn't be training with her any more for the time being, he'd told her more than once that she put up too good a fight for his liking. He preferred to leave that to real battles, not training exercises.

She slowly made her way to the changing rooms, trying to ignore her sore muscles as she took off her training clothes and stepped under the warm spray of the shower.

She tilted her head to the side, letting the water hit her neck and shoulders, closing her eyes as she tried to relax. It wasn't until she felt an arm snake around her waist that she realised she wasn't alone, and as her eyes flew open she reached for her wand.

Before she could reach it, she was spun around and pushed back against the tiled wall, her arms pinned over her head. "Mmmm," Kingsley growled into her ear as he leaned closer. "Hot, wet and naked, just the way I like you."

She was relieved to see it was him and not someone attacking her, but even as she tried to calm her heart down, she wanted nothing more than to yell at him for scaring her so badly. In fact, she opened her mouth to do just that, but then he pushed himself against her and crushed his lips to hers in a searing kiss, and her mind went to that quiet, peaceful place where all that matters is him, and what he does to her.

She hadn't seen him in weeks, and her body had missed him more than she had realised. They hadn't spent much time together since that first night almost two months ago; in fact, a few days after he had returned for the Order meeting he'd had to leave again. But still she had longed for his touch, using training as her only distraction and way of getting rid of that pent up energy, exhausting Hodgins with endless hours of duelling. It was no wonder he was glad to be leaving on a new mission tomorrow.

"How did you know I was here," she managed to ask when his lips moved to her neck.

"Hodgins told me when I arrived."

There was something in the way he said it that didn't feel right for some reason. With a small frown, she pushed him back enough so she could look at him. "Why would he tell you where I was?"

"He probably knew I'd want to see you," he said with a smirk. "And he was right," he added as he pushed his hips against her, showing her just how much he'd wanted to find her.

"Kingsley…" she said, pushing him back again when he leaned forward to kiss her.

"He's my best friend," he said, as if he were stating something obvious. "It took him all of a day to figure out what was going on."

Her eyes widened at his words, and she felt her cheeks burn. Hodgins had known all this time? She'd thought she had been doing a good job in hiding whatever it was that was going on between her and Kingsley, and he had known all along?

That explained a lot, actually, the looks he'd given her whenever she had casually asked when the Aurors would be back from their missions, or how he would ask about her training with Kingsley, his lips always twitching into a faint smile as she spoke about his friend. Next time she saw him she would- Oh, damn, how was she supposed to think with Kingsley's tongue teasing her neck, her jaw, her ear.

This time she didn't push him away. Why would she, when he felt so wonderful against her? Instead, she moved one of her legs around him and when he let go of her hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

She surrendered herself to the feeling, letting him take control of the kiss, letting him spread her legs and pull her up, then press her against the wall, making her wrap her legs around him. Then he was inside her, and her body arched as she moaned into the kiss.

How could he feel so damn wonderful inside her, around her? How could he make everything else vanish as he took her? How could it be so good to just stop thinking and give in to him?

The water was still falling warmly on them, and she leaned forward to lick the drops sliding down his firm chest, then tease the flesh with her teeth, biting hard enough to make him hiss and buck his hips against hers, driving himself deeper into her.

His rhythm became more frantic, and one of his hands slid between them, rubbing her clit, bringing her closer to the edge. Her lips searched for his again, and she kissed him with all the passion she could muster as she felt every muscle in her body tense.

Then she closed her eyes and just gave in. She had decided she didn't need to define what they had, didn't need to put a label on it. She would just go with it, at least for now. She had a right to do something she wanted, something that made her feel good, and since that first night she couldn't think of anything better than Kingsley. So as her orgasm washed over her, she clung on to him and just felt.


	9. Chapter 9

Chaos. Absolute chaos. The images around her made no sense, and yet at the same time they did. It was a battle, worse than anything she had ever seen. Screams, blood, stray spells and curses that missed their target and threatened anyone on their way. The sun was beginning to rise, tinting the sky orange and making it hard to see. But that didn't matter to her; she had one concern and one concern alone. Voldemort.

Someone was running towards her, wand pointed her way as they tried to take aim. The words of the Killing Curse slipped past her lips with an ease she wouldn't have believed a few months before. But then again, so many things had happened in the last few months, so much had been lost, so much had been done.

She watched the Death Eater fall as the light hit him, and she didn't care. It meant nothing to her. She took a step forward, and then another, blocking attacks as she let the green jets of light clear her way. Soon bodies littered her path, but she only paid them enough attention to avoid stepping on anything and losing her balance. Her target, her goal, was ahead, and she would not stop until she reached him.

Another curse, another death, another step forward. She barely noticed her friends calling her name, barely noticed Harry running after her. All that mattered was getting to Voldemort. All that mattered was ending this war that had already cost her too much. And so she continued, feeling the blood from others dripping from her fingers, from the times when her wand hadn't been close enough, and she'd had to find other ways to kill. The blood had turned cold now, and it made her fingers stick to the wand, but that wasn't important.

She felt Harry reach her, felt him grab her shoulder and turn her around, worried about her, and just in time for her to see the Death Eater behind him, ready to kill the Boy Who Lived. She pulled Harry to the side, out of harm's way, as she blocked the curse and sent one of her own. One less Death Eater to worry about.

They were close now, she could feel it in the air, could feel Voldemort's power around them, so thick it was hard to breath. And so she turned around and continued walking with Harry next to her, clearing the path for them, knowing she had to kill every Death Eater that threatened them, because Harry wouldn't.

Something hit her shoulder. Searing pain that made her scream out loud, her legs tripping over something as she tried to turn around, searching for the source of the attack. Another hit, more pain, blood trailing down her arm. She felt Harry reach for her, trying to stop her from falling, so worried about her he still wasn't looking for the source of the curses. And she pushed him away, yelled at him to get to Voldemort, asked him to put an end to it as she fell to her knees. She lifted her arm, aimed it at the first Death Eater she saw and screamed the killing curse as she tried to keep her brain working through the pain. Another Death Eater came, and another she killed, keeping them off Harry as he fought Lord Voldemort barely a few yards behind her. It was his job to kill Voldemort; it was hers to keep him alive long enough to do it.

But the pain was too much, and her vision blurred as she was hit by another curse. She screamed in pain, and the world around her began to blur. Then something firm and warm surrounded her. Her name was whispered into her ear, soft and almost urgent at the same time, and she realised her eyes were closed, and she was lying down, and it was a pair of arms that surrounded, and there was no pain. Not in her body, at least.

"It's all right," the voice whispered over and over again, and she felt something moist running down her cheeks. It took her a few moments to realise it was tears, and the moment that knowledge hit her there was no stopping them.

The arms pulled her against a broad chest and turned her around, hands moved up and down her back, soothing her as she cried. It had been so long since the last time she had cried like this. Years since she had let herself acknowledge the pain, relive those memories. It was a weakness, something she couldn't afford. A part of her was sure that the next time she let herself break down this way, there would be no stopping the tears, no stopping the pain. Too much had happened, too much for anyone to cope. Or perhaps it was just her, perhaps she was just too weak to deal with the loss of everything and everyone she had once loved, with the loss of such a large part of herself.

But this time she let Caleb hold her, and she held him too, the dream still so clear in her mind she could almost feel the old wounds on her body open, could almost feel the cold pain from the curses cutting her flesh, reaching her bones. But she was safe there, with him; she had to remember that. The war was part of her past, and whether she liked it or not, it had shaped her into the woman she now was. She was strong now. She would not break.

*

By the time their boat reached the pier Redstone was there, waiting for them. He seemed nervous, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for her and Caleb to step into the platform.

He greeted them both politely before saying, "Mister Potter is already here."

"Is he waiting for us inside?" Caleb asked, and Redstone shook his head.

"He insisted on talking to the prisoner on his own," Redstone said, as he led them towards the prison entrance.

"So he's with Malfoy now?" she asked, and the wizard nodded. She started walking a little faster, and the two men followed suit.

They walked past the large iron gates and into the prison, following the same path from the last time, heading to the Visitors Area. Redstone walked ahead of them, asking them to wait as he stepped past the last set of doors. Even from a distance she could feel the air cold against her skin, and the lights around her dim, but only for a second. Then four Dementors glided out of the room. She could feel their attention on her, but they didn't linger this time, they simply moved past them.

"Follow me, please," Redstone said, and they stepped into the Visiting Area.

Two guards were standing by the entrance door, and four more by the one that led to where she guessed Malfoy was waiting. As they approached them, one reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open.

She wasn't sure what she expected to find inside the room, but it certainly wasn't Harry sitting calmly across from Lucius Malfoy. They both turned as she stepped in, but said nothing. There were two more guards inside the small room, which could probably explain the silent atmosphere. But she did notice one strange thing as she stepped inside the room, a fain buzzing sound in her ears that made it hard to hear what Redstone was saying just a few feet behind her.

With a quick frown in Harry's direction, she reached inside her pocket for her wand and tried not to draw attention to herself as she lifted the Muffling Charm.

Caleb was speaking to Redstone just outside the room, and now that she could actually make out the words she realised he was asking the wizard to order the guards to leave. Redstone didn't hesitate as much this time, and after a quick word the two guards were walking past them and out of the room, to stand next to the other four.

A charming smile from Caleb later they were finally inside the room, with the door closed.

"Interesting," Harry muttered as he watched Caleb move to the closest chair and sit down. "It took enough convincing for them to let me into the room before the two of you arrived, yet a few words from you and they're sending the guards away, against specific regulations."

"One of the perks that come with power, boy," Lucius said, leaning back comfortably against the back of the chair.

"We agreed you'd wait for us before talking to him," she said, ignoring Lucius.

"What for? There were guards with us at all times, so I don't see what the problem is."

"Then why did you use a Muffling Charm?"

"They didn't need to know what we were talking about. I'm sure we have more pressing matters to discuss than this, so why don't we focus on what really matters for once?"

"I agreed to arrange this meeting under the assumption that you would behave yourself, Potter. If that's not the case, I'm sure those guards wouldn't mind escorting you back to the pier."

Harry shrugged again, and then turned to stare at Lucius. "Have it your way, then," he muttered to Caleb.

"From what Mr Potter has told me," Lucius said, looking at her, "the Order of the Phoenix has already been informed of the situation." When she nodded, he continued. "But they still haven't made a decision. You mentioned the deadline, I am sure."

"You don't need to worry about what the Order does or does not do. You gave us until Thursday to decide, and you will have an answer by then. Leave the rest to us, Malfoy," Caleb said, drawing the wizard's attention back to him.

"So young to be a Minister for Magic; I was most surprised when I heard the news, but after almost two years you seem to have proved yourself to those who didn't believe you were _up to the job_," he said, sneering slightly at the expression. "Many of your predecessors would have decided to give me anything I asked for by now. The repercussions of setting free a few dozen Azkaban prisoners are not as damaging as those that would come when the same amount of innocent citizens, war heroes all of them, appeared dead, one by one, in what I can assure you would be a rather gruesome manner."

"What you fail to understand, Mister Malfoy, is that not everyone puts the media and the public's opinion first. Power games don't bode well with me, so you would do well not to waste your time with them."

"Oh yes, most impressive. I can understand the attraction," he told Hermione with a smirk, and she kept her expression blank, even as she felt Harry's confused gaze on her. "What I do not understand is why someone with such... integrity, would take such a risk. What would the public think if they knew the truth, Miss Granger?"

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry asked, but the wizard ignored him. He seemed to be too amused at taunting her to pay Harry any mind.

"I know about you, Miss Granger. I know the truth. I have my sources, as you have yours. Who would have thought the golden girl, a war hero, would be capable of such things? What would the Wizarding world think," he started, then turned to Caleb once more, "if they knew the truth?"

"We're not here to discuss my life, nor Miss Granger's life, Malfoy," Caleb said, the first hints of anger already tainting his voice.

With an amused expression, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he asked, "What is it you're here for, then?"

"You already know that," Harry said briskly. "I want to know why I'm part of the exchange."

"Insistence won't get you an answer, Potter, although manners would probably help. As I said before, you will know it when the time is right."

"When will that be?"

Malfoy's smirk was there again. "After the exchange, of course."

"What makes you think we will agree to this?"

"We all know the Order of the Phoenix's greatest weakness," he said. "Always letting feelings dictate your actions. Would you let your friends, the ones that fought side by side with you, die because you refuse to exchange them for a few former Death Eaters?"

"Former Death Eaters?" Harry asked, almost in a snort.

"I can assure you, Potter, your friends' lives over the last few years haven't been easy, but that is nothing compared to what will happen to them if you refuse the exchange."

"Who?"

"Who what, boy?"

"Don't play fool with me, Malfoy. Who do you claim have been captured?"

Lucius' eyebrows quirked as he smiled. "Claim?"

"From what I've heard, you have given us no proof that you actually have any former Order member imprisoned."

Looking at Hermione, he said, "I believed the memories you were sent were proof enough."

"I find it hard to believe that a group of Death Eaters would capture Order members during a battle, and then keep them alive for years after the end of the war. Why wait until now to offer this exchange?"

"Our motives are not what you should be concerned with, boy," Lucius said. "I assure you, the prisoners are alive, and will continue to be so, if the terms of the exchange are accepted."

"If what you are saying is true, then why don't you tell us who you have?"

With a renewed smirk, Lucius replied, "Finally you have asked a good question, and for that I'm willing to respond. I believe the uncertainty will push you towards agreeing with our terms more than knowledge will. I believe the hope that someone you love might still be alive, and the fear of what would happen to them if you refuse to do what needs to be done to rescue them, will have more of an impact than knowing precisely who we have. I am simply trying to maximize the chances of reaching an agreement."

"You bastard," Harry yelled, jumping from his chair, but Caleb's quick reflexes were enough to stop him.

"It's not just him, Malfoy," she said, as Caleb tried to pull Harry back into his seat. "The other Order members will find it hard to believe this, as well."

"From what I hear, you can be quite convincing when you need to, Miss Granger. I'm sure you can find a way around this."

"I want to know who," Harry said, his tone somewhere between angry and hopeless.

With a theatrical sigh, Lucius Malfoy leaned forward and spoke to Harry in a hushed tone. "Come now, Potter," he said. "You cannot expect your pleads to change my mind. Yet, I do feel compelled to give you names, only a few mind you, just for the pleasure of watching you squirm. There is an unbelievably short supply of amusement in this prison. Let's see now," he said, tapping his jaw with a finger as he pretended to think. "It would be remiss of me if I failed to mention our most renowned…guests. Mr. Robards, the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is one of them. And I'm most certain you will remember former Minister for Magic, Mr Fudge. I'm fairly sure Ollivander is still with us, as well. But that is not what you want to hear, is it, boy?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with malice. "Perhaps you'd be more interested in knowing whether your friend Lupin actually survived the attack on the werewolf pack he had been trying to infiltrate, or maybe that Weasley boy, the one with the scars. Or that child, Creevey. Colin, I believe his name is. He assured us he was a close friend of yours. Unfortunately, his younger brother will not be part of the exchange; he died during a rather violent night of torture, I'm afraid."

Malfoy smirked as Harry launched from his chair again, leaning back calmly as he watched Caleb grab Harry by the robes and push him back against the wall.

Harry tried to yank himself free of his hold, but Caleb was stronger. After a few moments he began to calm down, and Caleb motioned for her to knock on the door, waiting for one of the guards to let them out.

With one last warning look, Caleb let go of Harry, who pushed him back with a scowl and straightened his clothes as best he could before heading for the door.

"I shall give you the proof you demanded, Potter," Lucius said, as they were leaving. "Just remember, when it comes, that you asked for it."


	10. Chapter 10

_September 19__th__, 2000_

Hermione's body tensed as soon as she opened the bedroom door. The room was dark, and nothing seemed out of place; it appeared to be empty, but she knew better. She heard Harry's boisterous laughter from down in the kitchen, soon joined by others, and knew it would be a while before anyone wandered upstairs to sleep.

Without saying a word, she stepped inside the room, every movement slow, careful, and with a hint of a smile slowly making its way to her lips. With a quick flick of her wand she closed the door behind her, leaving the room in almost complete darkness, the faint moonlight filtering through the open window only allowing her eyes to see dark shapes. She lowered her arm again, letting go of the wand and hearing it clatter to the floor.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on her hearing. She waited to hear his footsteps approaching, but there was no sound, no telltale sign of movement of any kind. A second later, hot breath caressed her skin, and she tilted her head to the side, moaning softly.

"Kingsley," she breathed, and heard him chuckle behind her.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked in that deep, sensual voice that always made her shiver.

"I heard you move."

"Liar," he whispered against her skin, his lips ghosting over her shoulder, barely touching. "I made no sound, and you couldn't have seen me, either. How did you know?"

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice weak already, even though he had barely even touched her. She really had no idea how she had known; he was right, she hadn't seen him, or heard him, not even the scent of his skin had been noticeable, even though now it seemed to fill the air around her. "I just knew," she said, and she felt him smile against her neck, seemingly satisfied by her answer. "When did you get back?" she asked him, trying to keep her voice strong as his arms slipped around her waist and pulled her back against him.

His hands moved down her body slowly, every touch making her skin burn for more. "I didn't. Just sneaked out for tonight," he said, as his fingers slid under her dress, his touch light, but its effect overwhelming. "Did you miss this?"

A whispered, "Yes," was all she could manage, lost in the feeling of his hands, his lips on her, his body firm and strong against her back.

His hands caressed their way to her inner thighs, and then she felt his fingers press against her flesh, his nails raking up her thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to leave a mark as she cried out his name, her body arching against his touch

His lips trailed up her neck, their softness contrasting so deliciously with the roughness of his touch, the combination so perfect it made her knees go weak, and she had to lean back against him for support.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, and then bit on her earlobe as he trailed his hands up her thighs again. There was no need for her to reply, she was sure her body's reaction to him was answer enough.

His hands left her legs and moved up her body, touching her lightly until he reached her shoulders, slowly slipping the straps off of them and letting her dress fall down to pool around her feet.

"So beautiful," he murmured against her shoulder as he slipped his arms around her waist again, pulling her back.

He was still fully dressed behind her, and even as she felt the soft material of his robes against her skin, the warmth of his body reaching her through his clothes, it was a different contact that she longed for. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, wanted to feel that strong chest, those muscled arms against her with nothing between them. She wanted to feel _him_.

"I have something for you," he said after a second, as a large, square, jewellery box floated to her. "Go ahead, open it," he said when she hesitated, and she reached forward, opening the box.

"Sweet Merlin," she gasped, her eyes wide as she saw the beautiful necklace inside the box, its black pearls almost the same tone of his skin.

"Happy Birthday," he breathed against her ear.

Before she could say anything else, he reached forward and pulled the necklace out of the box, holding it in front of her. She tilted her head slightly, giving him room to clasp it around her neck.

Her hand moved automatically to the necklace, her fingers touching the smooth, cold pearls lightly. "It's beautiful."

"It's not just any necklace," he whispered huskily into her ear. "It was made just for you. I charmed it myself," he added.

Before she could ask what he meant, she felt the necklace tighten around her neck for a few seconds, just a hint of what it could do to her, and the thought was enough to tear another moan from her lips. "I knew you'd like it," he said, smiling against her cheek.

One of his hands slipped around her waist again, pulling her more firmly against him as the other one caressed her shoulders, her neck, her jaw, and then moved to her hair, untying it before grasping some of her curls and pulling her head back sharply.

"I have something else," he said in that same husky tone, letting go of her hair and reaching behind him. A second later his hand moved in front of her, letting her see a long strip of black material.

Her breath caught in her chest when she realised what he was holding, and she felt her heart speed up. She had never been blindfolded before, and the thought of him doing that to her excited her more than she would have imagined.

He held the cloth still for a few moments, giving her time to say no, but when it became clear she wouldn't, he reached forward with his other hand and carefully tied it over her eyes.

His hands moved from the blindfold to her back, taking a moment to unclasp her bra and let it slide down her arms before moving lower, his fingers hooking around the waistband of her knickers and slowly pulling them down her legs, letting them pool on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

His fingers trailed up her sides as he stood again, and then his lips nuzzled her neck for a moment. Just as she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access, he stepped back, breaking all contact between them.

She stood still, waiting in silence, wanting nothing more than for him to touch her again, but he didn't. He didn't make so much as a sound, she couldn't even hear him breathe, but she knew he was still there, standing close to her, watching.

There was something strangely erotic in standing still, naked and blindfolded, feeling the weight of his gaze on her skin, especially when he was still fully dressed and completely in control of the situation.

"Turn around."

His tone made her shiver, and she did as he said without hesitation. He fell silent again, for moments that felt eternal as she waited, waited for another word, another caress, the only sounds reaching her ears those of her own breathing and her heart beating wildly, expectantly.

Suddenly, she felt his breath against her lips, so close, so very close. She inched her head forward, wanting to close the distance between their mouths, to finally feel his lips on hers after so long, but he moved back before she could, staying just out of reach.

She stood still again, feeling him in front of her, wanting nothing more than his touch, but again she waited, waited until she could think of nothing but the feel of his breath against her skin, the warmth of his body so very close to hers. She waited until her mind swarmed with images of them together, memories of the stolen hours they had spent exploring each other. And just when she thought she couldn't take it any more, she felt him lean forward, his tongue tracing her lower lip.

Such a small touch, such an unbelievable reaction.

She leaned forward, trying to find his lips, but again he moved just out of reach.

"Please," she whimpered, and the next second his lips crashed against hers in a kiss that left her breathless, a kiss that left her entire body weak and tingling with desire.

When he pulled back, her lips tried to follow him, to continue the kiss, but he was again out of reach, and she was left standing in the middle of the bedroom, naked, flustered, aching for his touch and unable to do anything about it.

She focused on controlling her breathing as she waited for another touch, another kiss, and when she felt him lean closer again she didn't move. His lips ghosted over hers, and she simply gave in to the feel of it, doing nothing to increase the contact. She gave up control, and that was just what he had been waiting for.

He kissed her again, deeply this time, with a hunger, a need as strong as the one she felt, their teeth clashing and their lips bruising as they melted into each other's mouth, their tongues exploring, fighting, deepening the kiss.

She reached forward, needing to touch him, but his fingers quickly wrapped around her wrists and pushed her arms back down. After a few more seconds, he broke the kiss and let go of her wrists, stepping away again.

"On the bed," he said, and she was pleased to hear his voice hoarse, slightly breathless.

It took her a moment to remember where she was standing, and then she took a small step back, and then another, until she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her knees; she reached behind her with her hands next, and carefully sat down. The next second he was kissing her again, deeply, forcefully, pushing her back until she was lying down on the bed. Then he leaned down against her, but there were no clothes between them anymore. It was just skin against skin, hot and firm and maddening, and she hadn't even noticed she was moaning into the kiss, her back arching until her body was pushing against him, trying to get as much contact as she could.

Then his mouth was on her neck, kissing, licking, nibbling, biting, and she couldn't see him, and it felt all the more intense. He pressed her hands against the mattress when she tried to touch him, and she could feel his smile against her shoulder, his lips against her collarbone, the hollow on her throat, the valley between her breasts.

She moaned and called out his name as his lips wrapped around her nipple, his teeth teasing it into a tight peak before moving on to the other. The rest of his body had moved away, and his mouth was all that was touching her.

"Please," she whimpered as he kissed a trail down her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her calves, never touching the spot where she needed him most. Then he was moving up again, nibbling on her thighs as he grabbed her hips and pulled her forward, closer to the edge of the bed.

His tongue flicked over her clit, and her back arched at the sudden contact, his hands keeping her hips in place as he did it again, and again. But it wasn't enough, she needed more contact, needed…

His hands moved down to her thighs, spreading them further before slipping a thick finger inside of her, slowly, teasingly, giving her a little bit of what she had been silently begging for, but not enough.

Gods, she wanted to see him, wanted to watch the hunger in his eyes as he pleasured her, wanted to see the fire in his gaze as he watched her getting closer and closer to the edge. But the blindfold made every touch, every caress and every kiss so much more intense. It was as if by taking away her sight, he had awoken every other sense in her. She could hear his breathing, fast and deep, and she could hear every sound he made against her skin. She could feel his skin on her, even the lightest touch, so scorching, so powerful.

Another finger slipped inside her, curling just right, rubbing against that perfect spot, but he was controlling his every move, measuring her every reaction, pushing her to the brink only to stop before she could fall over, then starting again, stopping every time until she was whimpering and begging him to let her come.

The orgasm was so intense that every muscle in her body tensed and relaxed at the same time as she arched into his fingers, into his mouth, wanting more, needing more as a scream was ripped from her throat.

Then it was over and she was breathless, and his hands were on her hips again, carefully pulling her to her feet before turning her around. She felt him press against her back then, before he whispered, "Crawl onto the bed."

Her body was moving before she even realised it, doing just as he asked, waiting for another touch, another kiss, anything and everything he would give her. She moaned when she felt him kneel behind her, his hand caressing her from the small of her back to her neck before pushing her head down against the mattress as he thrust into her.

His pace was hard and fast, his hands pulling her hips back every time he thrust forward. His hand buried in her hair and pulled her head back until she was kneeling with her back flush against his chest. That was when the necklace began to tighten, slowly pressing more and more, just as he sped his movements.

She moved her hands to her neck, touching the cold pearls but not trying to pull them away. She rested her head on his shoulder as he fucked her, the necklace loosening enough to let her gasp for breath, then tightening again, making her mind cloud as every nerve ending in her body became alive. He pulled her hair back tighter as he bit down on her neck, and she would have screamed, but there was not enough air in her lungs to utter a single sound as she came again, hearing him curse behind her as he tensed and came, too.

The necklace loosened as the last shivers from the orgasm died away, and she gasped for breath, Kingsley's arm around her waist the only thing keeping her up. She felt his hand in her hair move, pulling the blindfold away before lowering her onto the bed and lying down beside her.

She closed her eyes and tried to will her heart to slow down as she moved closer to Kingsley, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. He moved a few strands of hair away from her face and she looked up to see him smiling at her. He tilted his head down to kiss her forehead before whispering, "Happy birthday."


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione sat in a far corner as she waited for the Order meeting to start. She was more nervous than she had been for the previous one, which was saying something. She wasn't the only one feeling that way, apparently; they were still waiting for the last few members to arrive, but unlike what had happened two days ago, now the entire room was almost completely silent, the rare whispers so soft she didn't know how anyone could make out the words.

She turned the page of the file she was reading, then tried to focus on it again. It was the third time she read through the medical files Healer Thompson had given her, and although she had the feeling she had heard or read about those symptoms before, she had absolutely no idea where. It was frustrating, knowing many Order members were now at St Mungo's, and there was nothing she could do to help them.

She noticed someone moving closer and tapped the files with her finger, changing them into a boring financial analysis no one would be interested in. When she looked up, it was to find the two people in the room more likely to talk to her, especially after the last meeting.

Fred and George both looked relaxed, almost happy, as they always did, but she could tell they were as worried about what they were going to discuss in only a few minutes as everyone else was.

They quickly pulled a pair of chairs closer to her and sat down. "Busy?" Fred asked, as he tilted his head to see what she was reading so intently.

"Boring," George muttered, reaching for the file she was holding and snatching it away. He frowned for a second as he touched it, then smirked and gave it a closer look. "Amateur tricks," he said, moving his arm back when she tried to reach for him and handing the file to his brother.

"Indeed," he said, with a disapproving look. "We thought you were smarter than this, Hermione."

"Using basic Concealing Charms? Tut tut."

She reached forward and smacked Fred on the head before yanking the file away from him. "This is private," she said, "and I most certainly do not need lessons from you on Concealing Charms."

"If you say so..." George shrugged, while Fred rubbed the spot where Hermione had hit him. "But you might be interested in learning that we knew you had charmed those documents the second we touched them."

"What are you babbling about?" she asked as she vanished the files with a quick flick of her wand.

"Magic Trackers, new and improved," George announced proudly as he slid his sleeve up enough to show her the thin black and silver bracelet around his wrist.

"You managed to fix them?" she asked, annoyance forgotten as she reached for George's arm and took a closer look.

"You sound surprised," Fred said. "We simply changed the silver for platinum and used Muggle rubber to keep the two parts from making contact."

"Dad gave us the idea, then went on and on for hours about Muggle electricity and the use of rubber on cables." George said, as he reached inside his pocket and pulled another identical bracelet out.

With a wink, Fred said, "It's part of our private line of products, so we would appreciate it if you didn't use this to show why you think we are so smart."

"Thank you," she muttered, as she slipped the bracelet around her wrist. "Have you received your shipment, yet?"

"First one arrived this morning, four more to arrive tonight."

"You keep surprising us, Mione," Fred said, smirking when he saw her scowl at the nickname. "We could really use your list of contacts."

"I thought we'd discussed this. You're not getting your hands on the list, no matter how much you insist."

They both sighed at the same time, trying their best to look disappointed, but she knew them too well to be fooled.

Before they could say anything else, however, Hermione noticed the door open, and watched the last few members walk into the room. "I think it's time for the meeting to-" she started, but before the last word came out an explosion so powerful it made the ground around them shake interrupted her.

"What was that?" George asked, but she was already standing and on her way to the centre of the room, where she had last seen Caleb.

Everyone was quickly getting up, fear evident on their faces as they tried to figure out what was going on. They were looking at one another, but nothing seemed to be wrong.

"It didn't come from inside the house," Caleb said as he walked closer.

"I know."

"What was that?" Parvati asked from a few feet away, but she didn't waste time with a reply.

Hermione pushed her way among Order members as she tried to reach the door, Caleb close behind her. She reached for her wand as she made her way down the hallway, hearing a few more people follow but not taking the time to look behind and see who it was. She only stopped when she reached the main door, performing a few spells to detect magic on it before pulling it open.

There was a large crater right in the centre of the street, and as the thick fog the explosion had caused dimmed, she noticed something right in the middle of it.

It took her a few seconds to make sense of what she was seeing, and then she was yelling for someone to get a healer as she ran forward, tripping with the debris and almost falling down a few times before she finally reached the figure lying in the crater.

She heard screams behind her as they realised what they were seeing, but she was too focused on the body in front of her to care. A thick black cloak was covering most of the figure, but it was clear it was a person. She pulled the cloak back and gasped when she saw the mangled naked body it hid. Among all the blood she could see old cuts and burn marks that took over most of the skin.

"Be careful," Caleb said as he kneeled behind her. He reached forward, gingerly pushing the long, dirty strands of hair from the face to see who it was.

Just then the chest heaved, and the dry, swollen lips parted for a deep breath. The eyes fluttered open, their colour so blue, contrasting with all the blood. She jumped back at the sudden movement, barely catching herself before falling down. She stared at the man for an empty second, unable to believe he was still alive, and then she called for a healer again as she leaned forward.

She tried to decide what wound to work on first, but they all seemed like old, badly healed ones. She had no idea where all the blood was coming from.

The low, gurgling sound coming from the man was distracting her, and her eyes moved to his face again. There was something so familiar in it.

"Help," the man managed to whisper, his eyes scared, frantic as he looked at her.

"Can you see any fresh wounds?" Caleb asked, and she shook her head, unable to tear her gaze from the blue eyes.

"Her..." came another whisper. "Hermio..."

She felt her hands shake, and fought to control herself. The man knew her, which probably meant she knew him as well. She had to focus, had to- She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and then willed all those thoughts away as she focused on the most pressing matter.

"I can't see a wound, but where is all the blood coming from?" she asked, as she noticed a few others move closer.

"We must turn him over," Caleb said, and she nodded.

They reached for the man's shoulders and carefully pushed him to his side. There was a large knife buried in the middle of his back.

"Let me through! Move!" someone yelled behind her, and a few seconds later a healer was there, kneeling at the man's back. "Let me see him," the witch said, and Caleb inched to the side, careful not to lose his hold on the man's shoulder.

"That's the only open wound we've found," Hermione said, as she watched the healer lean closer.

"We have to get it out. Hold him firmly," the witch instructed as she reached forward and carefully pulled the long knife out.

"There's a note," Caleb muttered, as the healer laid the knife on the floor, but before she could see what it said someone had taken it.

She quickly looked to the side, watching Harry yank the small roll of parchment free from the knife's handle and open it. He started shaking his head, muttering, "No, no..." as he looked at the man with wide eyes. "Who is it? Tell me who it is!" Harry demanded, as he moved closer to the man. The healer yelled, "Take him away!" the second she felt his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back, and she saw the twins step forward as one and take Harry's arms, forcefully pulling him away from them. The note fell from Harry's hand as he tried to fight back, and it landed on the floor close to her. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the upside-down text, and the second she read it she understood Harry's reaction. There were four words written on the roll of parchment: "Here's your proof, Potter."

She kept looking down at her hands every other second. There was no blood on them any more, although that didn't matter. She had used magic to clean them, but it didn't seem enough. She needed water, and soap, lots of soap. Or maybe something stronger.

"This is all my fault," Harry kept saying as he paced the small room. Most of the Order had left, but there were a few still in the house. They were waiting outside.

Ginny was standing next to Harry, but she hadn't spoken since they'd entered the room. The healer had come to inform them only minutes ago that the man had died. The Death Eaters had set a curse on the knife, and there had been nothing she could do to save him. The death hadn't come as a surprise, she had known he was beyond healing. It had been his identity that had shocked them all into silence. The healer's assistant had recognised Colin Creevey from her years at Hogwarts.

"Are you all right?" Caleb asked, and she nodded. She looked into his eyes and could see that he didn't believe her, but he said nothing.

"We asked for proof," she said bitterly as her gaze darted to Harry.

"_I_ asked for proof," he said angrily. "And he gave me just that."

"The only one to blame here is Malfoy and the other Death Eaters," Ginny said, but Harry merely snorted.

"I can't let anyone else die like that," Harry said, stopping his pacing. "They made sure he stayed alive despite the wound. We all saw the marks on his body, the burns and the cuts. I can't let that happen to anyone else."

"What are you saying?"

"We have to make that exchange."

Caleb took a step closer to Harry, trying to keep his voice calm as he spoke. "That is not a decision to make lightly, Potter."

"Do you think this is lightly?" he yelled angrily.

"You need to think this through," Hermione said. "There are many-"

"Stop telling me to think things through! That's all you do, think and over-think. That will get everyone else killed."

"And you act without thinking, you always have! You jump in without thinking of the consequences. You want to save the others, I can understand that, but this is not the way."

"Then what is? What do you propose we do? Torture Lucius Malfoy until he tells us what we need to know? Then perhaps kill every Death Eater involved, just for the fun of it?"

"For the fun of it? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" he yelled, taking a few steps towards her so they were now standing face to face. "You say I jump in without thinking? Well, that's better than killing without thinking, Hermione!"

"You have no idea what you're saying," she said, trying her best to control her temper as she took a step away from him.

"Don't pretend it's not true," he yelled, grabbing her arms and shaking her hard.

"Let. Go. Of. Me," she hissed.

"Or what?"

A mere thought of words had Harry cursing and pulling his hands back. The next second she had her hand around his neck and the tip of her wand touching his chest as she backed him against the wall.

"Don't you ever put your hands on me again. Ever. I've had enough of you," she hissed. "You think yourself so high and mighty, looking down at me as if I'm worth nothing. Have you forgotten all we've been through? Have you forgotten everything I did for you? How many of those Death Eaters you mention did I have to kill to save your life? How many things was I forced to do, to get us through the war, things you'd rather not know ever happened?"

She stepped even closer to him, moving her wand until it was pressing into his pulse point. "Don't fool yourself. Someone had to do it, and you didn't have the balls," she said. "You killed Voldemort, but you only got to him because I cleared the way for you. Have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten how many curses hit me that night, while I held the Death Eaters back so you could kill Voldemort? You can't forgive yourself for that one death you caused, and I accept that, but don't you dare judge me for not feeling the same way." She pressed her wand deeper into his neck as a few sparks flew from the tip, the hiss of burning flesh not even registering as she continued. "The Death Eaters I killed were trying to kill us; they killed our families, our friends. I will not feel sorry for what I did. I will not feel sorry for saving my friends' lives. The only difference between you and me is that I can do what it takes, and I can deal with the aftermath. Don't you dare judge me for that."

She took a step back, then lowered her wand before she did something she would regret.

Harry looked at her in silence for a few moments, anger still clear in his eyes, but finally he glanced at Caleb as he spoke again. "I'll agree to the exchange. Can this be arranged through the Ministry?"

"No you won't" Ginny said, but Harry ignored her.

"Can it be arranged?" he insisted.

Caleb looked from Harry to Ginny to Hermione, her, then finally spoke. "Perhaps, but I'm not sure. Freeing Azkaban prisoners would require more than my authorization. Many others will have to be convinced."

"I hate playing politics, but this time I will."

"Harry James Potter, you listen to me," Ginny said, forcing him to turn to her. "You are not letting any Death Eaters take you!"

"I have to do this," he muttered.

Hermione didn't want to listen to this any more. It was insane, he couldn't really agree to it. But she knew she wouldn't be able to change Harry's mind, and neither would Ginny. She turned around and walked to the small window, looking outside as the conversation continued.

"You're not just talking about rescuing Order members, Potter. Death Eaters will go free. And they will take you with them," Caleb said.

"I know," he said. "We'll find a way to capture them again. Perhaps we can use some sort of Tracking Charm."

"Stop this!" Ginny said again. "You're not going anywhere, you are not agreeing to this."

"Perhaps you should listen to your wife, Potter."

"I know someone specialised in Tracking Charms, I'll ask them if it can be done."

"Harry, stop it!" Ginny cried. "You can't do this."

"We'll discuss this somewhere else," Harry said.

She heard footsteps next, the door open and then close, but she didn't tear her gaze from window until she felt strong arms around her waist. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her head back against Caleb's chest, moving her hands over his and pulling his arms tighter around her.

"Are you all right?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" she asked, and felt him shake his head against her shoulder. "I should've kept my temper."

"I think you were surprisingly well-behaved, considering the circumstances."

"I'm so tired of this," she said with a sigh. "I'm tired of them looking at me as if I'm some kind of monster."

"It doesn't matter what they think. You know the truth."

"Do I?"

"Of course you do," he whispered, kissing her shoulder. "You wouldn't-"

The doorknob turning was the only warning they had before the door was pushed open, barely enough time for him to let go and take a step back.

"Minister?" someone called from the doorway, but she didn't bother turning around to see who it was.

"Yes?"

"Harry asked me to tell you his friend will be here in a few minutes."

"I'll be there in a moment," he replied.

A few seconds passed, and the door was closed again.

"Merlin, I'm so sick of this," she groaned, running her hands through her hair.

"Sick of what?"

"Of all this," she said, turning around. "I'm sick of having to hide how I feel, I'm sick of not being able to kiss you, or to hold your hand just because someone could see us. It was the same with…it was the same with Kingsley," she said, her voice barely breaking when she spoke the name. "I'm tired of having to hide my feelings from everyone."

"It doesn't have to be like this," he said, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You heard what Malfoy said; he was right. I've worked with too many important people, influential people, and if they found out-" She took a deep breath. "You're the Minister for Magic, and I'm…part of the Golden Trio," she said, with a bitter laugh. "If it was only that, then you're right, we wouldn't have to hide this. But what I do, it's rarely legal, and almost never morally right. You cannot be associated with someone like that."

"Why don't you let me worry about what people might think of me?"

"We've been through this already," she said, trying to smile, if only a little. "I won't risk everyone thinking badly of you because of me, and I won't risk someone trying to hurt you just to get to me."

"You don't need to protect me, you know?" he said, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her as she gathered the courage to voice the question she'd wanted to ask since the previous day. "Do you think they have him, too?"

"I don't think so," he said, softly. "Yesterday, Malfoy wanted to boast about who he had. He named people he thought Potter cared about, and important or powerful wizards. He even mentioned Fudge. If they had Kingsley, he wouldn't have let the opportunity pass; he would've told us."

That's what she had been thinking, but still, she couldn't help but hope.

"Kingsley was like a brother to me, Hermione. I wish I was wrong, but he's dead. You saw it happen, and so did I."

She tried to blink back the tears that welled in her eyes as she did her best to push away the memories that Caleb's words had summoned.

"You can't agree to that exchange," she whispered. "We never should've involved the Order, we should have said no when Malfoy told us his terms."

He moved his hand to her jaw, tilting her head back so he could look into her eyes.

"They'll kill whoever they have, just like they killed Creevey."

"I know. But you can't let those Death Eaters go free, and you can't let them have Harry."

"Potter's idea of tracking the prisoners down might work."

"Either way, he will destroy your career."

He took a deep breath before speaking again. "You worry too much about my career." When she didn't reply, he continued. "I don't like the idea of doing the exchange, but even if I refused, he'd find a way to do it without the Ministry's support."

"He'd try, but I won't give him the chance."

"What are you thinking about?" Caleb asked, and now he sounded concerned.

"I'll take the exchange agreement off the table."

"If you do that the prisoners will be killed."

"Not if I can help it."

"Potter won't just let this go, he won't give up. Not only that, but the entire Order knows about the exchange, and they know how angry he was after the _proof_ they sent earlier. If something happens to the Death Eaters, there's no way Potter won't be blamed for it."

"Of course there is," she whispered. "I can take the fall for him, like I always do."


End file.
